Ceiling of Routine
by Glow
Summary: RoryLogan “You overestimate my susceptibility to this thing you call charm...” Just re-uploaded with proper formatting. We'll see if it worked...
1. Charm is Relative

**TITLE**: Ceiling of Routine

**RATING**: Totally G, so far.

**SPOILERS**: Up to and including "The Party's Over"

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB.

**NOTES**: Logan and Rory have brought me back. I'm a sucker for flirty banter. And hot blond boys. Story title ganked from a lyric by a crazy little Canadian band.

**One: Charm is Relative**

Rory had known guys like Logan. Plenty of them. There was not a single class at Chilton that had not been densely populated with over privileged, technically good looking and allegedly charming guys like him. They'd sat in front of, behind and all around her. They'd bestowed the ever so charming nickname of 'Mary' upon her. She'd met a couple at Yale, and a couple more at her grandparent's party.

As a rule, she'd avoided the type. Never had she felt drawn to one, outside of a John Hughes movie. More often than not she'd been slightly repulsed by them. She hated that an abundance of money and artfully tousled hair was supposed to make her overlook a lack of character. Money did not make you happy. Artfully tousled hair did not make you deep.

Logan Huntzberger, however, was beginning to seem like he just might be an exception.

"Hey there, Ace. Almost didn't recognize you without the tiara." Logan slid into the empty seat next to her, apparently not caring that the social contract dictated he be invited. He ignored Paris's glare (a feat in itself) at being interrupted. Nor did he seem to know that it was rude to swipe someone's orange slices without at least asking.

He had a way of sneaking up on her. She'd found that the best way to deal with the sneak attacks was to ignore them, and pretend she had seen them coming. It as a rare person who enjoyed being an irritant but Logan relished in it. She swallowed her cornflakes before replying, "Logan. Hey. This is Paris, my roommate. Paris, this is…"

"Logan Huntzberger. I know."

Logan was momentarily puzzled. "Have we met before?"

"No. My mother has a mental ranking of all eligible bachelors in Connecticut and the surrounding area. It's a complicated system based on looks, net worth, the potential to be a closet homosexual, etc. You're currently number six."

"He's number six?" Rory was surprised. "Has you're mother _met_ him?

"Only number six?" Logan echoed. Rory was greatly amused by the fact that Logan seemed more than a little miffed not to have cracked the top five.

"Buck up, little camper. If you'd like a list of flaws, I'd be happy to compile one. Additionally I work in the newsroom you nap in." At this, Rory did giggle. A little. This caused Paris to turn her attention towards Rory. "But first, a tiara? Whatever was the occasion, _Ace_?"

Rory made a face. "Don't you start. I don't like nicknames."

Paris rolled her eyes. "I remember, Mary. Or should I call you Lorelai Leigh Gilmore the Third?"

"Hey! Nowhere on my birth certificate am I numbered."

"Which was not at all my point, by the way. But I have a lecture across campus. I should go before the keeners take all the good seats. Don't think you're off the hook yet, Princess."

Rory rolled her eyes. Paris was not one to let anyone off of a hook, ever. "Good-bye."

"Bye. Later, Huntzberger."

Logan waited until Paris was out of earshot before speaking again, "I like her."

Rory ignored the pang of something that was certainly not jealousy as she turned to look at him. "Somehow, I don't think you're her type."

Logan smirked. "Oh, I know I'm not her type. Not now. But give me a couple of decades. We Huntzbergers age very well."

"You're like cheese in more ways than one, then, aren't you?"

His reply, "I was kidding. A guy doesn't just date every girl he likes. I have many female friends. Are you always this hostile?" was said as he reached for another slice of her orange.

She slapped his hand away. "Nope. You just bring out the worst in me. Anyway, how did you know about Paris'" she lowered her voice and leaned into him slightly, "type?"

He mimicked her and leaned in as well, whispering conspiratorially, "Simple deduction, Ace. Number one: Professor Asher Fleming had a well known, and earned, reputation for liking them young. Number two: the second time we met you were carrying flyers with his picture on them. Number three: you insisted, quite vehemently, when asked, that you and he ware not an item. And number four: you introduced Paris as you're roommate."

Rory put some distance between them, slightly unnerved by the whisper of his breath across her skin.

"Very astute, Sherlock. Now does your little visit have a point other than taking advantage of my giving nature when it comes to fruits and vegetables? Because trust me, if those were French fries, you'd have gotten more that a slap on the hand."

"Good to know. Protective of fast food. I'll add it to my notes."

Somehow, she didn't put it past him to actually have notes, "Logan…"

He easily caught the slightly sharper edge her tone had taken on and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Relax, Ace. I simply came by to ask how you are. I'd have called, perhaps offered you a foolproof hangover cure, but I haven't got your number. I could have gotten it, but I didn't think you'd have appreciated the intrusion."

"I'm fine. Despite the rumors that are circulation my town regarding the limo full of men that dropped me off on Friday night."

"I would like to here those rumors."

"Why? I'm sure none of them detail anything you haven't actually done."

"Rory. After all we've been through together, do you really still have such a low opinion of me?"

"My opinion of you is slightly, only very slightly, a pinch, you could say, higher than it was when we first met."

"Ah. Well at least I'm on an upswing."

"Up pinch. For now."

"You underestimate my charm."

"You overestimate my susceptibility to this thing you call charm," she mocked him with air quotes.

Logan laughed at this and Rory herself could not keep from smiling slightly. He glanced at his watch and stood up. He made a gesture akin to a hat tip. "Ace. Always a pleasure. I'll be seeing you." And strolled away.

One of these days, she was going to have the last word.

When Rory returned to her suite at the end of the day she was exhausted. This was due in no small part to the massive textbook she needed for her Brit Lit class, which the professor insisted they bring, but that they had yet to crack open during the course of a class. She was tired and edgy and had spilled coffee all over the skirt she had just bought. When she spotted Paris, seemingly waiting for her, she just knew that someone, somewhere was laughing at her. She dropped her bag and flopped into a chair facing Paris, hoping that by being proactive her misery would end sooner, rather than later.

"So. Harry Winston's or Cartier? How many carats?"

"What?" As usual, Paris began a conversation in such a way that defied logic.

"You're tiara?"

"I didn't ask. I didn't want to know."

"You actually wore a tiara?"

Rory flipped her hair away from her face. "Not willingly. It was my grandmother's idea."

Paris rolled her eyes. "Clearly. No offense, but I've been in you're house. No one who lives in that house has a hidden stash of tiaras."

Now it was Rory's turn to roll her eyes. "Could you quit saying tiara?"

"Not until you tell me what the occasion was. State dinner? Coronation? Miss Teen USA pageant?"

"You know that Yale alumni party? The one my grandparents cancelled Friday night dinner for?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, it wasn't so much a 'Yale Alumni party,' as advertised. It was more a find Rory a boyfriend with a trust fund party."

"That sounds hellacious. For you, at least. I wish I'd been there."

Rory laughed. "Sometimes I wonder if you actually like me or if you just pretend to and will one day smother me in my sleep."

"I wouldn't smother you in you're sleep. I'd pay someone to slip an untraceable, slow acting poison into your coffee first thing in the morning when you'd never notice. Give me some credit."

Rory hit her squarely in the face with a throw pillow.

"Hey. I was joking. Lighten up."

"Don't threaten my coffee. It's the only thing that gets me out of bed at 7 AM."

"So Huntzberger was at the party?"

"Yeah. And on a first name basis with my grandfather."

"That's hardly surprising."

At this, Rory raised an eyebrow. "Well, it was to me."

Paris sighed. Sometimes she felt like Obi Wan teaching Rory Skywalker the ins and outs of being a Jedi socialite. "One of these days I'm going to make you a chart."

"We all know you like charts."

Paris continued as though Rory had not even spoken. There are a lot of rich people in Hartford, yes. Not so many, however, that they don't all have at least a cursory knowledge of one another."

"Name, rank and serial number, gotcha."

"Now, as with every group of society, there are subgroups."

"Which are…?"

"New money, old money, and really old money."

"A chart would be good right about now."

"I'm keeping it simple, stupid. You are really old money. The Huntzbergers are really old money. You're a Yale legacy. So is Logan. You're grandmother sits on the same charity boards as his mother. You're grandfather has shared many a cigar with his father. Had you're mother not hightailed it out of Hartford with you, you probably would have sat next to each other at the kiddie table at one dinner party or another. You're nannies would have been friends.

"Weird."

"It's an incestuous little group."

He was at his desk in the newsroom, back to the door, ridiculous hat in place, so she took the opportunity to sneak up on him. "Hey there, Huntzberger. Got a question for you."

"I'd expect nothing less from you, Ace." If she'd startled him, he gave no indication but politely put aside the jumble he'd been working on.

"What was you're nanny's name?"

"Which one?"

"You had more than one?"

"Contrary to what _One Hundred and One Dalmatians_ tells us, most nannies don't last a lifetime. Why the sudden interest in my parent's hired help?"

"Apparently, in an alternate universe, my nanny would have been friends with your nanny. Did you know who my grandparents were before last Friday?"

Logan considered the question. "The first couple of times I met you? No. I can usually tell a debutante from a financial aid applicant, and I figured you for the latter."

"I applied. Didn't qualify. I was a debutante, though."

"Really? You're just full of surprises. Anyway, when I first heard your last name, I wondered a little. But then, Gilmore isn't exactly uncommon, so I dismissed it."

"So you were as surprised to see me as I was to see you?"

"Not exactly. I dismissed it but then I remembered the whole teenage pregnancy-illegitimate grandchild thing."

Rory winced a little, "I hate that people care so much about that."

Logan shrugged. "People talk. So I asked around a little."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Have you ever consulted a therapist about these stalker-like personality traits?"

"I seem to remember you learning my routine and threatening to 'track' my every move."

"I was after a story."

"Which you never would have gotten if you hadn't been Lorelai Leigh Gilmore the Third of the Hartford Gilmore's."

"Elitist snob."

"We may be, but we throw a damn good party. Much like your grandmother."

"So did you know that you were going to be a window display in my shopping mall of future husbands?"

"Yep. And had it been any other girl I would have gotten out of it."

She laughed incredulously. "Is this what you like to call charm?"

"C'mon, do you think I leave champagne and gorilla masks for all the girls?"

And while Rory was trying to formulate a sufficiently scathing reply. He stood up, winked, and strolled out of the room. Apparently, today would not be the day she got the last word.


	2. Playing All Sides

**RATING**: Still G.

**SPOILERS**: Up to and including "Emily Says 'Hello'"

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB. It they were mine threw wouldn't be a three week Logan drought.

**NOTES**: So sorry about the your/you're issue last chapter. I don't have a beta reader as I tend to change things around right until the second I post it. For example, initially, in Part one there was no Paris. There was, however, a Stephanie. Then I realized that Stephanie was coming across as a little too Alexa from _From Justin to Kelly _(which, seriously, is way underrated). That seemed like something of an insult to ASP so out came Stephanie and in went Paris who I find somewhat difficult to write. I will try to do better but don't hesitate to call me on any more mistakes.

Thank you for all the reviews. I've been away so it's nice to know that people are still willing to read my stuff.

A couple of people inquired about the title. It's from a song by The Unicorn's (who I love because in addition to making kick ass songs their CD notes include the words "Kill Jenny from the Block," which amuses me). Which song it's from I don't remember right now. I think it might be "Inoculate the Innocuous" but I'm not sure. I lent the C.D. out but I'll check when I get it back. The full lyric is "pop, pop, pop goes the ceiling of routine" which clicked with me. Rory's used to being a certain person and Logan's going to shake that up. Pop the ceiling, so to speak.

Sorry. Longest Authors Notes ever. Enjoy.

**Two: Playing All Sides**

Friday night dinner had, once again, been something of an ordeal. Not quite as trying as the aptly titled 'meat market' of last week, but still pushing the dial on Rory's stress-o-meter into the danger zone. To start with, she still had the tiara, necklace and earrings she'd worn last week and intended to return them. The thought of transporting thousands ("Hah," Paris had snorted, "try millions.") of dollars worth of diamonds from New Haven to Hartford, without an armored guard, or even a sufficiently viscous German Shepard, incongruously named Tiny, was more than daunting. Her imagination ran wild with scenarios of highway pirates, none of whom were very Johnny Depp-like or even Orlando Bloom-y.

Next, she was pretty sure her mother would be there. While that would ordinarily be a comfort mother and daughter had left things on an awkward note last weekend. Lorelai had been incredulous at Rory's insistence that the party had not been that bad and even more shocked over the Dean breakup and Rory's okay-ness with it. The fact that Rory had neglected to return her mother's call on Wednesday had probably exacerbated the situation.

Then there was Richard and Emily themselves. Rory wasn't entirely sure what she should say to them. They had manipulated her shamelessly but she knew that their actions, however misguided, had been done out of love.

Oh, was that the time? Rory realized she had better get a move on. Tonight, of all nights, it would not be a good idea to be late.

Her mother was waiting for her next to the Jeep in the driveway. As always, Lorelai did not care if they were late.

"Hey mom."

"I called you on Wednesday."

"Yeah. I know. Sorry. I've been really busy. School and the paper and…" Her excuses were weak and they both knew it.

"And secret societies and ball gowns and champagne, oh my?"

"Mom…" Rory's tone was pleading."

Lorelai sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I just hate this. I hate that we fight. I hate that you didn't return my call and I hate that I don't know what you're thinking."

"I hate it too." Not knowing what else to say Rory kissed her mom on the cheek and approached the front door.

Lorelai, reluctantly, followed

Conversation over drinks was stilted. Rory and her grandfather made small talk. Yale, the insurance biz and the ramifications of Yassar Arafat's death would have on politics in the Middle East. Lorelai said little and fiddled with the olive in her martini. She and her father didn't talk, not about the important things. She was gearing up to face her mother. To that end, Lorelai excused herself from the pool house a little early.

When Lorelai was out of earshot, Richard broached the subject they had been, up until that point, so carefully avoiding. "About the party. I am very sorry if you felt that we tricked you. That was not our intention. We simply wish for you to widen your social circle. People meet many lifelong friends in their college years."

They had tricked her. But Rory, ever the peacekeeper, decided not to push the issue. Richard was not one to talk about feelings, having grown up in a time and social class which deemed such things unmanly and weak. His used actions to show that he cared be they sharing a newspaper or handing her an envelope "for Fez." An apology was more than she had expected.

"That boy… Dean…" Richard cleared his throat, clearly somewhat discomfited at the prospect of discussing his granddaughter's romantic relationships.

"Grandpa. It's okay. I know that you meant well. Besides it wasn't a total disaster. Only parts of it."

"Yes. Well. What are you working on at the paper?" And so they lapsed into small talk again. But when Richard's valet brought Rory another drink, it was just what she liked: Coke (regular, not diet), with a little bit of ice, and with a lime, not a lemon. She'd never once told the valet how she preferred her drink. He just seemed to know.

The minute she walked into the main house Rory felt the tension. The maids were working double time and seemed mildly terrified. The one who took her jacket from her would not make eye contact and appeared to be debating the appropriateness of a curtsey. She was shown into the living room where her mother and grandmother were sitting, their postures nearly identical, backs ramrod straight, not speaking, not even looking at each other. Rory was glad she'd missed the storm and was not looking forward to the play by play.

"Here Grandma. I brought you're jewelry back. Thank you for lending it to me."

"You're welcome, Rory. I'm afraid I have very little use for them nowadays. Once you're passed a certain age a tiara is impossible to wear well. I'll have Margaret put them away. Margaret. Margaret!"

"Yes Ms. Gilmore?" The maid was very obviously flustered.

"Put these away, please."

"Right away, Ms. Gilmore."

Rory groped for an appropriate conversation starter. 'How 'bout them Yankees?' would hardly go over well with this crowd. Luckily, Emily appeared to be up to the challenge. "So, Rory. Did you meet any nice boys last week?"

Lorelai snorted derisively and Rory winced. Apparently the storm was not nearly over. "Yes, Rory, tell us all about the nice boys who got you intoxicated. Even though it's illegal, unless I've been in a coma, wearing perfect eye makeup, for the last year or so. Or did we move to Canada?"

"Lorelai, don't be such a hypocrite. You and Christopher were pilfering from our drinking cart at a far younger age."

"That's not the point."

"You have a drink in your hand right now! You're hardly a prohibitionist."

"I'm thirty-five years old, mother."

"And Rory is a mature young lady of nearly twenty years. She did not drink and drive. She merely had an enjoyable evening with a few of her peers. That's not a tragedy."

Rory sighed, and resisted the urge to rub her temples. She held up a hand to stop the argument. Both women were clearly just gathering steam and she might as well nip it in the bud. "Mom, Grandma, please," she tuned to her mother. "I'm sorry I was drinking. But you can't take that out on grandma. It was entirely my choice." She gave her mother her best pleading eyes, hoping that she'd get the message and drop the subject. Lorelai did, but something told Rory that it would not be a permanent drop. "To answer your question, Grandma, as a matter of fact I did. That boy, Finn, did you meet him? He…"

The goodbyes were subdued. Throughout the evening Lorelai had talked to Rory and Emily had talked to Rory but Emily had not said a word to Lorelai or vice versa. Lorelai had forgone many a condiment as they were situated closest to Emily on the table and she had too much pride to break her wall of silence. As a result, it took significantly less time to finish the meal.

"Alright kid. We need to have a serious talk, you and me."

"I know. I'll meet you at home."

"I'll swing by Luke's for coffee, you bring snacks?"

"Deal."

"Shall we synchronize our watches?"

"Mom. You never wear a watch."

"I know. But synchronizing watches it so Bond."

"I'd suggest a martini but I'm afraid you'll freak out and send me to a detox center."

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "I'll see you in forty-five, Mary-Kate."

Rory stopped at a place in Hartford as she was fairly sure that Dean would be working at Doose's and entirely sure that she did not want to see him. She loaded up with Doritos, Ben and Jerry's (mint chocolate cookie for her, half-baked for her mother) and gummi bears. The guy at the counter looked at her funny and she realized she was probably over dressed for a convenience store. She paid for her purchases, thanked him and returned to her car. Rory dug her cellphone out of her purse. It showed five missed calls. This was somewhat odd. Rory wasn't generally what one would call a social butterfly. She checked the numbers. The first two she recognized. The last three were from the same number and it was not familiar. She checked for messages. The first was from Lane telling her about a gig the band had coming up and would Rory like to come? The second was from Marty. He wanted to get together and study. The third one was from Logan and said simply, "Hey there, Ace. I told you I could get it." She could hear an obnoxious techno beat in the background.

Rory rolled her eyes for the benefit of no one. Logan Huntzberger was far too smug. Someone should really do something about that.

The fourth caller did not identify themselves, but the accent was distinctive, and the same song was playing. "Logan Huntzberger, our dear friend and esteemed colleague, is usually a consummate host. Naturally, we, that is Colin and I, were quite shocked when he eschewed protocol and good manners and snuck into his bedroom to make a phone call. What, or who as it turned out, could be so important, we wondered? So we arranged for a diversion, snuck in here and pressed redial. Cute message. Very…" here he stopped talking and there was a commotion in the background. Someone yelped out an 'ow!" and then the line went dead.

She'd heard from stooges one and two. Bets on who the third caller from that particular phone number was from? "Hi, Gilmore. It's Colin. Sorry about that last message. My Aussie friend wouldn't know a point if it slapped him upside the head. We'd like to extend an invitation to out little shindig. Mackinnon Hall. Fourth floor. We'll be here all night. I brought the good scotch."

Hmm. Perhaps tonight would be a good night to vanquish some smug of the Huntzberger variety?

"So," Lorelai started talking the instant Rory walked into the house,I stopped and rented us a movie. _Abandon_: starring Joey Potter as a whacked out Ivy League co-ed falling for hot cop with issues while being stalked by hot rich British ex-boyfriend."

"You should write the taglines on the movie posters. But I'm not staying the night."

"Oh?" Lorelai tried masking the hurt in her tone, "Why not? Big paper?"

"Not exactly," Rory made a face and plopped down on the couch next to her mother. "You're not going to like it."

"Why? Did my mother con you into a late night DAR meeting?"

"No. It's just that I got these messages from Logan and Finn and Colin about this party back at Yale…"

"So you're ditching me for a party with the Life and Death Brigade of drunken rich boys?" This time there was no masking the hurt.

"No! I'm not ditching you. I want to talk things over with you. I want you to know what's up with me. I don't want to go to where we were this summer."

"Rory, you're not acting like you."

"No, I'm not acting like the Rory you want me to be."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Rory squared her shoulders and twisted her fingers in her lap. She took a deep breath and willed the words to come out right. "Do you remember when grandma found out about Luke, from Kirk, and you were talking about making an effort to merge the worlds?" Lorelai nodded, "Well you're never going to do that. You don't like their world. You hated it when you were a kid and you hate it just as much now. You're uncomfortable with the idea that I might like it, or at least part of it."

"Rory. I just want you to be safe and happy. I'm afraid that you'll get hurt."

"And you're afraid that I'll choose theirs over this world." Lorelai's silence confirmed that Rory was right. "Well, you don't have to be. I love our world. I love the festivals and the people and walking barefoot on the grass and eating pop tarts off of paper plates. I love you and the life that you've made for us."

Lorelai sighed and sniffed a little. "All this talk of other worlds is making me feel like I'm at a Trek convention. Just promise me you'll be careful?"

"I promise."

"Well, then. I suppose we'll have to find you something to wear to you're fancy party. What's the theme? Should we make you a flapper? A bobby-sockser?"

"No theme this time."

"Darn. I so want a picture of you in a poodle skirt."

When Rory got to Mackinnon Hall it was past midnight but the fourth floor was still illuminated and music (thankfully of the non crappy variety) was playing. He party was spilling into and out of every room on the floor. She walked past them a couple of them, looking for a familiar face.

"Hey there, reporter girl. Looking for Logan?" The blond girl's intoxicated weaving was as familiar as her face.

"Not really. Stephanie, right?"

"That's me. So you got Colin's message?"

"Among others. How'd you know he called me?"

"I was the diversion. I'm quite good at it."

"I bet."

"You'll find 'em if you keep going. Second last door. Have fun. And killer lipstick, by the way." With a jaunty wave and a graceless stumble Stephanie headed in the other direction.

Rory continued walking and reached the doorway Stephanie had indicated. She peered inside. It was Logan himself who spotted her first. "Rory!" He got up and approached the door, quickly followed by Colin and Finn. He leaned on the doorframe and smirked at her. "Tracking my every move again, I see."

Rory smirked back. "Hardly. Has anyone ever told you you're a wee bit egotistical?"

"You. Every time I see you."

Finn elbowed past Logan. "We invited her, mate." He took her hand and kissed the back of it dramatically. "Rory. You look smashing, as always."

"Thank you."

Colin helped her out of her coat and handed it to Logan. He offered her his arm and she took it. "Let's get you a drink. Later, Logan."

As Colin led her away, she spared a glance backwards at Logan. He was holding her coat, and for a once, looked to be at a loss. She grinned, pleased. She might be a novice at these games, but she was a damn quick learner.


	3. Party All the Time

**RATING**: Upped to PG for some language some may find objectionable.

**SPOILERS**: Up to and including "Emily Says 'Hello'"

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB.

**NOTES**: You wanted Colin and Finn, I give you Colin and Finn. I love those boys.

**Three: Party All the Time**

Rory had to give Logan points for managing such a quick recovery. The crack in his composure had only lasted a few seconds and had she not been watching him intently she'd probably have missed it all together. The peanut gallery clustered on the couches in the middle of the room certainly had. He'd quickly stowed her coat in one of the rooms off the common area and returned to holding court.

Rory followed Colin into the small kitchen where an impressive array of bottles, mixes and garnishes awaited her. Apparently, this was not the first party they had hosted. So Gilmore, what's your poison?"

Rory inspected the spread and realized she had not the slightest idea of what most of them contained. Not willing to admit it, she decided to trust in Colin's clearly superior knowledge of all the things that could make her drunk. "Surprise me."

"A lady with a sense of adventure," Finn noted approvingly. "That's our favorite kind."

Rory peeked out into the living room and made a quick survey as Colin began her drink. "So is this your suite?" she asked, though she was fairly certain of the answer. The sleek lines and unapologetic opulence felt like Logan.

"It is. Finn, Logan and I have lived together since freshman year," Colin answered.

"Who's your fourth?"

"Haven't got one. We tried that first year. He was a physics student," Colin explained.

"And is there something inherently wrong with those who study physics?"

"They're twitchy," Finn complained. "And studious."

"Perish the thought," Rory remarked dryly. "I counted four rooms."

"She can count," Finn noted, somewhat mockingly.

"There are four rooms. Three are occupied, one is not," Colin explained. "There's not really another guy that we could collectively stand to live with"

"And sadly," Finn interjected, "Yale policy prohibits cohabitation among people of different genders. They're Puritans that way."

"Officially, that is. Finn's quite fond of cohabitation with people of the opposite gender, at least on the short term."

"I can hardly help it if the ladies can't get enough of me."

Rory cut off another round of sniping and accepted the finished drink from Colin, "And Yale doesn't mind this arrangement?"

"Throw enough money at the powers that be and…" Colin started.

"They won't mind any arrangement." Rory finished. She debated whether or not to summon some righteous anger over the unfairness of it but remembered that she'd been in their limo wearing a tiara not that long ago. "There has to be at least one person you could live with, though. What about…" she poked her head around the dividing wall and pointed, "him wearing the red shirt."

Finn checked to see who she was talking about and made a face, "McCabe? Uber wanker." She took an experimental sip or her drink. Not bad. Like really foamy Coke.

"Translation: Finn slept with the youngest McCabe daughter. Big brother did not approve."

Finn reached over and covered Rory's ears, quite ineffectively, "Colin! Don't tell her that!"

"It's true."

"You're going to make her think I'm a slut," Finn's tone was hilariously indignant.

"If the shoe fits, wear it."

Rory shook her head managing to dislodge Finn's hands. Sniping, it seemed, was inevitable.

"Moving right along. Contestant #2: Dark hair, excessive stubble. Huge ring."

Colin looked and summarized, "Ryan Elliot. Such a mama's boy."

"Then the guy to his left. With the glasses."

This time it was Colin who made the face. Finn smiled gleefully. "Hmm. That's James Pace." He exaggeratedly tapped a finger to his chin. "Why don't we like him again, Colin?"

Colin rolled his eyes, "Because he's a self-important wheezer?"

"Translation: Colin hooked up with his girlfriend bringing about the end of their relationship. Now who's the slut, whore?"

Miss Patty would love these two, Rory thought. "I give up. You know, hanging with you two is like walking through a Danielle Steele book."

Finn smiled cheekily at her and slung an arm around her shoulders, "You know you like it."

Logan choose that instant to join them. "A sub-party? I'm crushed." Logan found himself glaring at the arm Finn had wrapped around Rory. It did not budge. Not that he was jealous or anything.

Colin looked at him quizzically. "You're welcome to join us."

"More than welcome," Rory piped up, "I'm sure the dirt these two could spill on you would fill many a page."

Finn's grin turned a little maniacal. "You have no idea."

Logan's glare intensified. Who did he have to pay off to get a little loyalty around here?

Colin, being slightly smarter and a lot less intoxicated than Finn, diffused the situation neatly. "Logan's right. We're being rude. Let's get back in there."

"But…" Finn would have protested but Colin gave him a firm push that propelled him into the living area. He'd have fallen, if not for the chair that he caught a hold of. "Hey! Watch it."

"You'll thank me later."

"For what? The dashing bruised shins I'll be sporting tomorrow?"

"Finn. Buy a vowel and keep your hands off of the reporter."

Finn considered, "But she's pretty."

"It seems Logan thinks so too."

"And?" Suddenly Finn got it. "Oh."

"He did see her first."

"Lucky bastard. Always manages to call the best ones."

* * *

Once Finn and Colin were gone Logan stepped closer to Rory, purposely invading her personal space. When she neither stepped back nor threw out some sarcastic quip, he was intrigued. There was a game afoot. She calmly sipped her drink before asking, "What was the diversion?" 

He had no idea what she was talking about. "What diversion?"

"Hold this," she handed him her drink and dug her cell out of her purse. She pressed a few buttons and handed it to him, taking her drink back. He listened to Finn's message and shook his head, "He has an impressive vocabulary when he's drunk."

"I noticed. Listen to the next one."

He did. "So that explains how you got your invite," he placed her phone on the counter. "I was wondering, since as far as I know you and Colin and Finn don't travel in the same circles."

She raised an eyebrow, "Was that an insult?"

"Not to you."

She considered him. "That might have been a little charming."

"Ha! Point: Huntzberger. So it seems that you are not as immune as you claim."

An eye roll as she downed the last of her drink. "Apparently alcohol weakens my defenses against smarm."

"Allow me to get you another drink then."

"See, that? Was smarm."

"Was that a no to the drink?"

"No. So, the diversion. I here Stephanie was involved?"

"Yeah. She set a throw pillow on fire."

Rory laughed, "So she wasn't lying when she said she was good."

"Steph has a great many talents."

"I'm not sure I want details." The easy, affectionate way that he shortened the other girl's name irked her.

"You, Ace, need to get your mind out of the gutter," Logan held up a shot glass with red liquid in it. "Drink?"

It was a challenge. Rory took it.

* * *

There was a ringing sound. Finn woke up unwillingly. He was definitely not in his bed, which was not a bad thing. It appeared he wasn't in someone else's bed either, which was. And still the ringing did not stop. He sat up and pain shot down his neck. Mental note: do not fall asleep hunched over coffee table. The ringing stopped. Sweet merciful relief. 

He stretched experimentally. Not bad. He stood up. Bad. Very bad. Pain. He needed aspirin. And coffee. Possibly a frontal lobotomy. The first two were located in the kitchen. He made his way over to the kitchen, stepping over a few people who had passed out on the floor. Stupid heavy sleepers.

Finn fished some Advil out of the cupboard and filled up a glass of water. Tap water, ew. But desperate times called for desperate measures. He downed three pills in quick succession. As he went to start a pot of coffee the ringing started again. Slightly more alert now he recognized the culprit as a cell phone sitting on the counter opposite him. It wasn't his. He had lost his umpteenth cell phone last weekend and had yet to get around to replacing it. It couldn't be Colin's. Colin's phone was almost certainly on the charger in his bedroom where he anal retentively charged it every night. And Logan, being the unofficial cruise director of their motley crew, almost always had his phone on his person so in all likely hood it wasn't his either. The usual suspects eliminated he figured he might as well answer it.

"'ello?" He winced. He sounded like death.

"Hello?" It was a woman.

Finn cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?"

"Who are you and where is my daughter?"

"I'm Finn and that depends on who your daughter is."

"Rory Gilmore."

"Oh. Hi Rory's mom. I'll check Logan's room for you."

"You'll what?!"

Rory's mom's screech hurt his sensitive head and he held the phone far enough away so he could only barely hear her threats on his life. He probably shouldn't have implied that her daughter had spent the night with Logan. Oops.

Finn picked his way back across the living room and opened Logan's door.

"Logan."

"Mmrph."

"'Mmrph' to you too. Is Rory with you?"

That woke Logan up. "What? No. Why would she be?"

Finn shrugged, "You were the likeliest suspect, mate. Her mom's on the phone." He chucked the phone at Logan, narrowly missing his head and retreated.

Shit. He seriously considered hanging up the phone. But somehow, alienating Rory's mother seemed unwise. "Hello?" He pasted his best 'meet the parents' grin on his face, even though she couldn't see it.

The other line was silent save for even breathing. "Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Logan?"

Oh was she ever pissed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Is Rory there with you?"

"No, ma'am. I walked her back to her dorm last night. She just forgot her phone in our kitchen, I guess."

"You're lucky. I was seriously considering breaking the laws of time and space to teleport over there and go Tarantino on your ass."

"Oh," he could tell that she meant it.

"I'll still do it if you call me ma'am ever again."

"Noted."

"Now that we've cleared things up, I'll try Rory at her dorm. I'd say good-bye but something tells me I'll be speaking to you again."

"One never can tell."

"I'm her mom and I can. You hurt her; I hurt you, are we clear?

"Perfectly, Mrs. Gilmore."

"It's Lorelai." She hung up. Logan stared at the phone. Never had he been so sufficiently intimidated.

* * *

Rory was partially awake and watching a T.V. when her mother called. "Good morning. Whatcha doing?" 

"I'm watching Friends."

"A good one?"

"The one with the cheesecakes."

"I never bought that Rachel would eat a piece of cheese cake off the floor. She's clearly an Atkin's girl. Oh, hey, I found your cell phone." It was said in a forcibly casual manner that was somewhat suspicious.

Rory was puzzled. She wasn't aware that she'd lost her cell phone. "Where?"

"Well, I called it this morning to talk to you. Imagine my surprise when not only did you not answer it but a worse-for-wear Australian guy did."

"Oh. That'd have been Finn."

"Of _Passion of the Christ_, fame, yes. He introduced himself. I experienced shooting pains down my arm."

"Luke always said you ate too much grease."

"Then, when I asked where you were and he said, and I'm pretty sure this is a direct quote, "'I'll check in Logan's room…'"

Rory grimaced, "Full on heart attack, got it."

"I'm starting an aspirin regiment tomorrow. Oh, and I threatened to gut this Logan character with a samurai sword."

"How'd he take that?"

"With an appropriate amount of shock and awe."

"You do have that affect on people."

"It's a delicately honed skill. Anyway, the reason I called: what's your schedule like for the week?"

"Pretty much the usual. An insane amount of class work. An article. Oh, Hep Alien is playing a show here Thursday, so I'm going to go to that."

"Are you free Sunday for a mother-daughter day?"

"I'll write you into my planner."

"In pen?"

"In indelible ink."

"Great. I'll tell Lane to break a leg when I see her, and I'll see you Friday, then."

"Looking forward to it."

"Bye."

"Bye mom."

* * *

Not half an hour later Rory opened her door to find Logan in her entry way with her phone in hand. "Hi." 

"Hello. You left your phone at my place," he handed it to her.

"Yes. And you talked to my mother."

"I did. She's…"

"Intense? About some things, yes. Me being first and foremost on that list. Coffee second."

"I was leaning towards the word 'scary' but intense works. She reminds me of Emily, actually."

"Tip: never, ever say that to my mother's face."

"Yeah. I kind of figured there was an absence of familial warmth there."

"You have no idea."

"I probably have a better idea than you think. I'm hardly the model son, you know." Logan took in her coat and bag. "Are you headed out?"

Rory positively itched to explore the model son comment but wisely decided not to. They had not reached that level of intimacy. "Yes, I am. I'm going to swing by the paper."

"Work? On a Saturday? Tsk. Tsk. You're hopeless, Ace."

Rory stepped into the hall and shut and locked the door to her room. "Not work. I'm going to see if Janine's there, actually."

"Janine. Janine…" Logan tried to remember who that was but generally he tried to ignore the people at the paper. There were so many mindless Doyle's, sucking up to him in hopes of earning a good word with daddy dearest, that the people there tended to blend together.

"She's one of the entertainment writers."

"Well, if it's not work related, I'll tag along."

"Why?" Rory eyed him warily.

Logan shrugged, "Nothing better to do than grace you with my presence."

"I'm flattered. Truly."

Rory turned to leave the building and Logan fell into step with her. "Why the burning urge to chat up the entertainment reporter?"

"She does the write-up of not-to-miss events of the week. I'm going to try to get the Hep Alien show on it."

"'Hep Alien.' Never heard of them."

Rory looked at him appraisingly from the corner of her eye. "That doesn't surprise me. They're not very well known. Plus you're…never mind."

"I'm what?"

"Don't take this the wrong way or anything," she hesitated, "but you hardly seem like the type to be on the cutting edge of the music scene."

"Are you saying that I'm not cool enough to like Hep Alien? Whoever they are?"

Rory considered it. He had the uncanny ability to put a sharp point on things. "Yeah, that's pretty much exactly what I'm saying. It's not that bad. You just seem like the type of guy who bought a White Stripes CD, brought it to a party, and felt superior."

"You're mean."

I call 'em like I see 'em."

"Mean."

He pouted visibly. May whatever higher power who happened to be listening help her, but her stomach did a little flip at the sight. It made her impulsive. "What are you doing Thursday?"

"Oh, you know. There's this Linkin' Park documentary on MTV and since I'm such a huge fan…"

Rory rolled her eyes. "Shut up. Why don't you come? To the show?"

It was due to years of practice in masking what he needed to that he managed to sound not the least bit shocked at the fact that Rory Gilmore appeared to be asking him out. It was greatly out of what he thought was her character. It seemed that she was never short of surprises. "You're not embarrassed to be seen with me, a philistine?"

"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the greater good. Though you'll have to agree to listen to my Franz Ferdinand CD beforehand."

"What a world we live in when assassinated Archdukes can still record."

Rory placed a hand over her heart, "Please, please tell me you're joking."

"I said philistine, not imbecile, Ace."

"I thought it best to check. Hey, you should see if Colin and Finn want to come. The more tickets sold the better."

"Are you their manager?" Apparently she wasn't asking him out, which was more disappointing then it should have been.

"Nope. The drummer happens to be my best friend."

"Will I get to meet him?"

"Her," Rory said pointedly. "And no sexist assumptions in front of her, mmkay?"

"Deal. What times the show?"

"They go on at nine, but I want to try to get there early."

"So I'll pick you up when?"

"How about I pick you up? Say, 7:30-ish?"

"Will you bring me flowers?"

"And some candy, if you're lucky."


	4. Gathering the Troops

**NOTES**: Sorry if this chapter is too dialogue heavy for anyone. I tried my hardest to make it clear who was speaking when but not degenerate into "Rory said, Colin asked, Logan replied," etc. It's hard when there are more than two people in a scene. It was supposed to be a quick transition chapter to get all the players to the Hep Alien show. As you'll see, it kind of moved away from that. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm pleased this has been well received. As a thank you, of sorts, I included a snippet of the next part at the end of this one.

**Four: Gathering the Troops  
**

"Please?"

"No."

"Paris. Please. I will owe you so big time."

"First born child, big time. But still my answer is no."

"Please?"

"Look. Rory. I'm not the girl at the rock show type. You know this. I know this. I'm the girl with liquid hand sanitizer in her pocket who only got her ears pierced at her mother's insistence."

"And yet you just quoted a Blink-182 song," Rory pointed out.

Paris made a face. "Jamie was a fan. He thought it made him rebellious."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Someone should have bought him some Sex Pistols." Paris, having no idea who or what a 'Sex Pistol' was did not reply and so Rory returned to her nagging. "Come on. I'll buy your ticket."

"Why are you so insistent?"

Rory turned coy, "I sort of, kind of, not totally on purpose, invited Logan to come."

"So you want me to be the third wheel? I know you don't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but third wheels are bad. Bad, Rory."

"I know that. But I also invited Colin and Finn."

"Hmm. Kinky."

"Paris! I invited Colin and Finn, and you, because it's not a date. I don't want to date Logan."

"Yeah, you do."

"I broke up with Dean two weeks ago. I'm not ready to date anyone."

"That's probably true. But really, when has that stopped you before?"

"Shut up. I'm serious. You have to come. It's not like you've never made me do things I didn't want to."

"Name one."

"Running for student body vice president," Rory had been waiting for the opportune time to use that one.

"It looked good on your applications!" Paris protested.

"Nonetheless, I did not want to do it."

"Damn."

"Was that a damn of defeat?"

"That was a damn of 'fine, but only if you buy me earplugs, too.' And you still owe me your first born."

"Fine. And thank you."

"Never let it be said that I'm not a humanitarian at heart."

"Boys. Have you got any plans for Thursday night?"

"Yeah. Why?" Colin answered and looked up from the newspaper he was reading. Finn courteously paused the Playstation.

"Cancel them," Logan declared.

"Um… no?" Finn replied, disbelievingly. "I've got a 'study' date with Rachel Leland."

"So?"

"Have you seen Rachel Leland?"

Logan thought about it and came up blank. "Probably."

Finn smiled dreamily, "She makes me want to be a better man."

"And she'll still do that next week. Cancel."

Colin folded the newspaper neatly, "You're going to have to give us a reason, here."

"Yeah, and it had better be good. Like, you need us to donate bone marrow to save your life, good."

Logan sat down on the couch opposite Colin. "We're going to see a band."

Colin regarded Logan skeptically, "'A band?' What band?"

"Since when are you into bands?" Finn added. "I tried for two years to get your musical taste to a cool place. I've given up."

"Look. It's not that big of a deal. Rory just asked us to go. I said yes."

"Ah. Rory." Colin said, nodding sagely.

Logan glared at him, "What do you mean by that?"

"He means that you are uncharacteristically attached to this girl," Finn, ever so succinctly, stated the obvious.

"What? I am not."

"Yeah, you are," Colin countered. "It's funny, too, because half the time she seems not to like you very much."

"But she's cool, so we approve. It's funny to see you getting shot down. So I'm willing to sacrifice my face time with Rachel so you can have some with the reporter."

"That's very noble of you, Finn. I'm shocked," Colin said.

"Every dog has its day."

"It's not like that," Logan argued. But neither of them appeared to be listening.

On Monday, Rory realized that she should probably call Lane to confirm things. She dialed and waited. Lane did not answer but a chipper, recorded Brian did. "You've reached the residence of three fourths of up and coming rock and roll sensations Hep Alien. If you would like to book up, or sign us to a lucrative recording contract, please leave a message after the tone." Beep!

"Lane, it's Rory. I got your message…"

"Rory, hey," Lane picked up.

"Screening calls? How rock and roll."

"Too many groupies have this number."

"Still?"

"They're surprisingly persistent."

"I can imagine. They all want to be Yoko."

"Please, Rory. These girls have no idea who Yoko Ono is. They just want a guy in a band to fall in love with them so they can break his heart, and hear songs about what a bitch they were on the radio."

"Ick."

"Exactly. So can you come?"

"I'll be there with bells on. I've recruited a couple of people I know, too."

"Excellent. We can't count on Brian's parents to show up and buy tickets. It's too far, apparently. And they don't want to miss ER."

"Well, I played your tape to the music writer at the paper and she's going to mention your show in the next issue."

Lane squealed. "Really!?"

"Yep."

"Our first press mention outside of Stars Hollow. I'm so proud."

"It's only a campus paper."

"Still. Thank you."

"No problem. Do you guys have a flyer?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"E-mail it to me. My stapling hand is getting rusty. It could use the workout."

"Aw, Rory. You don't have to do that. I know you're busy."

"I expect the first thank you on the album. Full name. None of that initial business."

"You got it," Lane promised.

"Do you want to get together before the show?"

"Sure. There's a sound check in the afternoon. How's dinner?"

"I'm a fan of the meal. I'll pick you up at the club?"

"At, five, say? Then we can get ready at your place. It'll be like old times."

Rory sighed. "I miss old times."

"Me too. Hence the revival."

"Alright, so, I'll swing by the club at five. We'll grab some takeout. Bring it back here. Prettify ourselves. Make sure Paris doesn't try to wear pearls. Pick up the guys…"

"The 'guys'?'"

"Logan, Colin, Finn."

"From the limo?"

"That's them."

"Intriguing," Lane drawled.

"They like to think so."

"Are they cute? Babette said they were cute."

"Lane Kim. I'm telling."

"Way to avoid the question, Rory."

"Thanks. So we pick them up, than go to the club."

"We're going to need more than one car."

Rory hadn't thought of that. "You're right. I'll see if Paris will drive. It will appeal to her desire to have an escape route."

"Okay. That sounds like a plan."

"An 8 on the brilliant scale, I think."

"I can't wait."

"Me either. I'll expect your e-mail post haste."

"I'm approaching the computer as we speak. Bye, Rory."

"Bye."

As luck would have it, Marty found her on Tuesday, mid-staple. "Rory Gilmore. You're a difficult gal to track down."

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm a one woman street team these days."

"So I see," he relieved her of part of her stack of brightly colored flyers. "Hep Alien. Thursday at The Collective."

"Yeah. My friend Lane's the…"

"Drummer. I remember. Count me in."

"Marty. Before you make that decision. There's something you should know."

"Do they cover Flock of Seagulls? You know I hate Flock of Seagulls."

Rory laughed. "No. Though that'd be a sight to see. Or sound to hear, I guess. Do you remember Logan Huntzberger?"

"Against my better judgment, yeah."

"He's coming. As are his sidekicks."

"Oh. That's a new development."

"He kind of just keeps showing up in weird places. Breakfast, my grandparent's house, my voice mail. Like that one sock, that doesn't match any of your other socks, but you can't throw out, just in case its match shows up sometime."

"Well, I'm still in. I'll make nice if he does."

Rory couldn't exactly say no. But she had precious little faith in Logan's ability to make nice.

Late Wednesday afternoon found Rory making the trek back to Mackinnon Hall, with the promised Franz Ferdinand C.D., and several others. She knocked, but no one answered. She knocked again, louder, and was just about to turn and leave when the door was wrenched open. Finn slouched against the door frame, looking quite disheveled and rubbing his eyes.

"Do you even have class?" Rory questioned.

"Reporter Girl. What's the 'haps?" He ignored her question.

"Logan around?"

Finn furrowed his brow in thought. "It's Wednesday, right?"

"All day."

"Then no. He has a global policy seminar that lasts until 6:30. Anything I can do for you?" He leered. Just a little.

"As a matter of fact, give these to Logan," she handed him the stack of C.D.'s.

He took them and flipped through them quickly before handing them back. "I've got all these. I'd be happy to sit him down and make him listen to them, though."

"You have them?"

"Now, now, reporter girl. You sound skeptical."

"Just surprised."

Finn smiled and with a flourish swept his arm up to usher her into the room. "Step into my office." Rory entered and followed him to one of the doors off of the main room. He turned one hand over the door knob. "Now, I have to warn you. You will find me irresistible after this."

Rory rolled her eyes, "I'll take my chances."

He threw open the door, "Ta da."

Rory took it in. A bed, unmade. Several days worth of laundry on the floor, though no underwear that she could see. A desk covered in books, a fancy looking lap top opened on top. And on the wall an impressive sound system and shelves upon shelves of C.D's and records. "Wow. I feel like I should cross myself." She moved to step closer but looked for approval, "Can I?"

"Knock yourself out." He flopped down onto his bed on his stomach and propped his head up on his hand. "Do you want to play something?"

Rory closed her eyes, reached out and plucked a C.D. out. "How about this?"

Finn took it. "Excellent choice."

A fair bit of time passed and Rory was still there. Finn had dug up some licorice and paid a passing freshman $50 to get her coffee. He had cleared space on the floor in front of his stereo and there they sat, taking turns playing their favorites. Finn had all of hers. Rory had never even heard of some of his. Rory figured Lane had never even heard of some of his favorites.

"Finn. You are a man of hidden depths, I must admit."

"Why thank you, Rory. Just don't let it get out. I have a reputation to protect. If the ladies begin to think I'm deep, they won't be so willing to use me for my body."

"Did Logan tell you about the show tomorrow night?"

"He did."

"And you're going?"

"Yes. Though it pains me to have to cut into my study schedule."

"You're only young once. At least that's what Logan keeps telling me. My friend Lane, she's the drummer, is going to love you."

"Really?" He sounded intrigued.

Rory laughed. "She won't love you, love you. She's seeing someone. He's the lead singer and guitarist."

Finn looked disappointed. "Drat. It's so hard to compete with the musician types."

"Oh? You never started a garage band?"

"Nope. Stubby fingers and no rhythm. And a voice like a dying cat."

"Really," Rory smiled mischievously, "sing."

"No."

"C'mon. You can't be that bad."

"Oh yes I can. My badness is unequivocal."

"If you sing for me now, I'll send some groupie types your way and tell them that your part of an Australian band touring the east coast."

"Damn you Rory Gilmore for knowing my weakness." And then he opened his mouth and proceeded to positively butcher a Sinatra tune. Old blue eyes was rolling over in his grave.

Rory was laughing so hard her sides hurt. "Stop, please stop. You're right, I was wrong. So, so wrong."

He stopped, briefly, "You asked for it," and started up again. Louder and further off key.

Rory was just looking for a pillow to hide under when a voice spoke over Finn's wailing, "For the love of God, what is that?"

Colin popped his head into the room. Finn, thankfully, stopped singing. "Hiya Colin. We didn't here you come in."

"Finn, you're screeching would have obscured the sound of an atomic bomb dropping. Hi Colin," Logan joined Colin in the doorway, "Logan, hey," Rory greeted, surprised. Was it that late already?

"Ace. What a surprise. You're becoming something of a regular around here."

"It's the superior entertainment. Paris wouldn't sing for me."

"She came by to see you Logan," Finn explained. "I waylaid her," the lascivious wink that accompanied that remark earned him a pinch on the arm from Rory. "Ouch," he complained, rubbing his arm. "See if I sing for you again."

"Please, please don't. I'll pay you."

"I don't come cheap."

"Unless, he's drunk," Colin cut in, "which is often."

"I've noticed," said Rory.

"Why must you always pick on me?" Finn asked mournfully.

"Because it's easy," Logan answered. "We brought Chinese. You want to stay, Ace?"

"No, thanks. I don't want to impose."

"C'mon. Stay," Colin wheedled. "There's plenty, and you don't look like you eat much, anyway."

Rory raised an eyebrow, "I happen to be an excellent, eater. Thank you."

Colin looked skeptical, "All girls say that and then they just suck on a lettuce leaf."

"Ooh," Logan drawled, "that sounds like a challenge, Ace."

"Accepted," Rory nodded primly and stood. "Otherwise, my mother would disown me."

A few minutes later they had arranged themselves around the coffee table and were digging in. Colin hadn't been lying when he said that there was plenty. "How is your mother, anyway?" Finn asked cordially from where he was sitting to her left, "she seemed a little… perturbed, when we chatted the other day." He said chatted as though he and her mother were book club buddies.

"Oh, that reminds me…" Rory reached over and pinched Finn again, in precisely the same spot as before. His face twisted comically. "Please refrain from answering my cell phone."

"Well, it was ringing. Loudly."

"Yeah. They tend to do that," Rory said sarcastically.

"Well," Finn sniffed, "I hardly see what the big deal is."

"Are you kidding? You practically told her I had sex with Logan," she gestured wildly at Logan who was sitting diagonally from her, eating an egg roll.

He held up his hands, "Don't drag me into this."

"How old are you?" Finn asked.

"Umm… 20? What's that got to do with anything?" Rory was baffled at the abrupt topic switch.

"And you're not heinously unattractive."

"Gee, thanks, Finn. You really know how to make a girl blush."

"Jesus," Logan piped up. "You two should get an agent and take this show on the road."

"They'd make quite the side show," Colin agreed.

"Finn could run the Tilt-a-Whirl for a couple of extra bucks," Logan continued.

"You two?" Finn pointed and made a throat slashing gesture, "Shut up. I'm making a point."

"The world waits with baited breath," Colin mocked.

"As I was saying, Rory. You're twenty. You're hot. Therefore your mother must know you've had sex," Finn finished.

Rory blushed instantly, unused to discussing her sexual status with three guys who she did not know all that well. Finn studied her blush, interestedly, "Wait, are you a virgin?"

"What? I'm… How is that any of you're business?" Rory stuttered.

Finn shrugged and glanced at Colin and Logan, "We're all friends here. I've had sex. I've had lots and lots of sex," he confided, to the surprise of no one.

Rory also glanced at Colin and Logan who were watching her with closely. "Okay. This is too weird. I can't discuss this with you people."

"'Us people?'" Colin echoed.

"People I only met a month ago and know very little about."

"Rory, Rory. After all we've been through together," Finn shook his head. "We listened to The Raveonettes together, and you don't trust me?"

"Not as far as I can throw you, to butcher a cliché. And trust me; I have no arm muscles to speak of."

Finn got a gleam in his eye that made Rory very nervous. "How about we play a little game?"

Rory turned her attention to Colin and Logan, "Is he always this creepy?" Her attempt to change the subject fell flat and Colin merely nodded his confirmation.

"A little verbal game of 'you show me yours, and I'll show you mine,'" Finn continued, as though Rory hadn't spoken.

"How about no?" Rory countered.

"What have you got to lose, Gilmore?" Colin challenged.

"How do I know you won't tell every one you know what I tell you, starting rumors that lead me to drop out of Yale and become a telemarketer, a la that movie of the week the pink ranger was in?"

"Because," Logan answered her, "you know all about a little club we're a part of. A little club that's activities could get us expelled."

"And disowned," Colin added. "And I'm quite fond of my platinum, card, thanks."

Rory surveyed the three of them, "You're serious about this?"

Colin shrugged, "I'm game. From the way you're acting it's got to be a decent story."

"Life's just not worth living if one can't brag about one's sexual escapades," said Finn.

"You jump, I jump Jack," answered Logan, reminding her of another chance she'd taken.

"Fine," Rory capitulated. "But you all are jumping first."

_Next time, in Ceiling of Routine:_

"We're always dressed appropriately," Colin answered automatically.

"Yeah, for dinner at a four star restaurant or golfing at the club. I somehow doubt your ability to dress for a show at a night club in a not so classy part of town," Rory countered. "Some ground rules: you," she pointed at Logan, "no turtlenecks. No blazers. Colin, no cuff links. No outrageously expensive loafers."

"But they're Italian."

"Leave 'em at home. Put a pair of Chucks on the platinum card. Both of you: wear jeans. Actual jeans, no trendy, fussy dark denim designer stuff. Do not bring more than $50 in cash. Bring one credit card. Preferably one with a limit. Put the credit card in your front pocket, separate from your wallet. Don't wear a watch or anything that can be lifted. Any questions?"

Colin raised an arm, "What are 'Chucks?'"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Lord. This is going to be harder than I thought."


	5. Just Like Barbie

**RATING**: Still PG-13

**SPOILERS**: Up to and including "But Not as Cute as Pushkin"

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB.

**NOTES**: I struggled with this chapter. I hope the end result is at least satisfactory. As for updates, they won't be as frequent for the next while. I work retail part time to pay for school and the store's a madhouse this time of year.

**Five: Just Like Barbie**

"Up for a challenge? We like that in a girl."

"I'll add it to my list," Rory retorted. She surveyed the three guys sitting around her, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Exactly what had she managed to get herself into?

"List? What list," Finn asked.

"The list of things you like in a girl. So far I've got loose, adventurous and up for a challenge."

"Though," Logan interjected, "Those last two are kind of the same thing."

"Must you be contrary?"

Colin snorted, "That's pretty much his default setting, Gilmore."

"Lovely. So what are the rules of this little game of yours Finn?" Rory spooned more rice onto her plate.

"Hmm," Finn thought for a second. He hadn't really planned that far ahead, "How about a round of good old 'I never?'"

"I don't drink," Rory countered.

"Please, Gilmore. Present company has seen you drink, remember? Don't pretend you're not fond of champagne."

"Fine. I don't drink in the middle of the week."

"Okay. How about Twenty Questions?"

"Wouldn't work," Rory said dismissively.

"Why?" Finn asked, somewhat miffed that she was shooting down his ideas.

"There's three of you and one of me. Since you all have known each other for so long, you won't be asking each other questions. I'll answer sixty and you'll each answer either six or seven. That's an uneven balance."

"Now who's being contrary, Ace."

"I'm not being contrary. I just don't want to be the loser here."

"Oh!" Finn snapped his fingers, "I've got it!"

"May the heavens help us," Colin said sarcastically, "Finn's got something."

"Life," Finn affected an unnaturally deep voice and used sweeping hand gestures, "is defined by a series of firsts."

"Uh oh. Things never end well when Finn breaks out the Philosophy 101."

"Therefore," Finn continued, ignoring Colin, "the game is: describe your first sexual experience. Who, what, where, when and why as well as any extenuating circumstances."

"It'll work," Rory admitted grudgingly. "But really, why is this necessary again?"

"Because, Gilmore, we already know your basic stats. Now we want to know the interesting parts."

"What stats?"

Colin rolled his eyes and began ticking points off his fingers, "Name: Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. Parents: Lorelai Gilmore, only child of Richard and Emily Gilmore and Christopher Hayden, only child of Straub and Francine Hayden. Senior class vice president and valedictorian of Chilton Prep. Accepted by all of the major Ivy's, chose Grandpa's alma mater…" he trailed off, "I could go on."

Rory was shocked, "How, exactly, do you know all of this?"

"The husband shopping extravaganza?" Logan reminded her, "we got a rundown of your pedigree from the parental units with our demands of attendance."

Rory rubbed her temples, "You people are weird. And also, a little creepy."

"Ha! You don't know the half of it, Gilmore."

"Yet," Logan added.

"Enough chitter chatter. Let the games begin," Finn broke in. "Rory, love, as per our agreement you get to go last."

"Yippee," Rory said sarcastically, the wheels turning in her head. Part of her was wondering what the hell she was doing. Another part, the reporter part, was intensely curious. Now was her chance to see if tales of Logan's sexual exploits, rumored to be various and sundry, were at all true. Plus, she'd never really discussed sex with anyone, save Lane (who had no practical experience) and Paris (who's practical experience was of the variety Rory did not care to discuss) and her mother, with whom details were kept vague as some lines were not meant to be crossed.

"Ooh!" Finn waved a hand in the air, "Can I go first?" No one objected so he plowed ahead. "It was the winter of 1998 on an island both warm and remote. Forced Christmas vacation with the parents. My dad was amusing himself with golf, my mother, with daiquiris and plans to redecorate the London house."

"Wait a minute, how many houses do you have?"

"About four, last time I checked. How many houses do you have?"

Rory shook her head, "Just the one. Last time I checked."

Finn wrinkled his nose, "And you say we're weird. Anyway, I met a girl at a coffee shop where she worked. She was wearing a Clash t-shirt. Had a nose ring, too. Her name was Nora and she was a couple of years older. I bribed another employee to copy her work schedule for me and was there whenever she worked. Two weeks later my considerable charms had won her over and she invited me back to her place at the end of her shift. It was a bit of a hovel, actually, but we listened to Pink Floyd and she had her way with me. Several times."

"And thus, began Finn's ongoing fascination with alterna girls."

"Did you love her?" Rory asked, curious.

Finn considered, "No, not really. I suppose I could've, if I hadn't flown back two days later. Colin, you're up."

"Okay. Mine's pretty basic. Had a girlfriend in high school. Meg Naylor." Finn mimed playing a violin but Rory poked him and he stopped, "We began dating mid-junior year, started sleeping together a year later. Flowers candles, background music, the whole nine, the first time."

"What happened to her?" Rory asked.

"She went to Columbia. Hooked up with a bohemian painter type. We broke up." Rory didn't know Colin very well, but she suspected the nonchalance with which he spoke was forced.

The silence that followed was a little too heavy for Finn's liking, "Contestant number three, come on down!"

Rory smiled at Colin sympathetically, and turned her attention to Logan who was looking ever so slightly uncomfortable. "Yes. Do tell."

Logan shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, Ace. You seem to have some strange ideas as to what my life is actually like. I was at a party at a friend's house. I got drunk off obscenely expensive wine pilfered from various people's parents. Katie Littleton, who was in my Calculus class, found herself in a similar predicament. She kissed me, one thing led to another; I woke up next to her in a walk in closet on the third floor. My memories are hazy."

Rory shook her head, "No Logan, that's pretty much exactly what I expected from you." She was keenly disappointed in him, and she didn't know why.

Logan's eyes narrowed at her obvious barb, "Well, it's your turn, Ace. Let's hear it. I'm sure it's all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows." Anything else she could have said died in her throat. As the 'other woman' she really wasn't in any position to judge. Logan watched her eyes cloud over and knew he had hit close to home, "We're waiting."

"Fine," Rory steeled herself and fixed her eyes on a point well above Colin and Logan's heads and began, in a tone lacking any sort of inflection, the tale. "Who? Dean, whom you've all met."

"Guy with the truck outside of your grandparent's house?" Colin asked.

"That's him. Where? In my bed, at my house, in Stars Hollow. When? The beginning of last summer. What? That should be obvious. Why? Because I thought I could go back in time. Extenuating circumstances? He has a wife."

The three of them were silent. Whatever they had been expecting, that had not been it. "So I was right," Colin said, "it was a good story."

Finn twirled some noodles around his fork, "It's nice to know you're not perfect."

"No one's perfect." Rory looked at Logan, waiting for some appropriately biting comment

It didn't come. He considered her, a new, indecipherable gleam in his eye, "And that's a good thing. Perfect is boring."

* * *

Clean up had consisted of tossing the paper plates and plastic cutlery and storing scant leftovers in the fridge. A style which Rory was accustomed too.

Colin regarded her with a tinge of admiration, "I've never seen a skinny girl eat that much."

Rory patted her stomach, "Told ya. I was raised on diner food and takeout. Neither of which is known for small portion sizes."

Colin thought for a moment, "I don't think I've ever actually eaten in a diner."

"That's possibly the saddest thing I've ever heard."

Logan quirked an eyebrow, "You've got some messed up priorities. So about tomorrow…"

Rory sat up, "Oh, right. Another reason why I came over," she glanced at her watch, "three hours ago. We need to go over some conditions. There's really only two. Number one: you will be nice. Or you will be finding your own way home. Marty's coming and the last time you all were in the same general area I had the urge to drown all three of you in the nearest shallow body of water."

"Marty, Marty…" Finn muttered to himself, clearly having no idea what Rory was talking about.

"At the coffee kiosk," Rory tried to jog his memory.

"He's the bartender," Logan interjected.

Realization dawned, "Oh. Right. Bartender Marty."

"Just Marty. Remember rule number one. It also includes being nice to people you don't know. Rule number two: dress appropriately."

"We're always dressed appropriately," Colin answered automatically.

"Yeah, for dinner at a four star restaurant or golfing at the club. I somehow doubt your ability to dress for a show at a night club in a not so classy part of town," Rory countered. "Some ground rules: you," she pointed at Logan, "no turtlenecks. No blazers. Colin, no cuff links. No outrageously expensive loafers."

"But they're Italian."

"Leave 'em at home. Put a pair of Chucks on the platinum card. Both of you: wear jeans. Actual jeans, no trendy, fussy dark denim designer stuff. Do not bring more than $50 in cash. Bring one credit card. Preferably one with a limit. Put the credit card in your front pocket, separate from your wallet. Don't wear a watch or anything that can be lifted. Any questions?"

Colin raised an arm, "What are 'Chucks?'"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Oy. This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Chuck Taylor's," Finn supplied, trying to be helpful. Still he as met with blank looks, "Shoes."

Rory suddenly had an idea. "You know what? Don't worry about it. I have a plan."

"Why does that not sound like a good thing?" Logan wondered aloud.

"Hey, you protected the integrity of your event. I'll protect the integrity of mine. As a bonus, you won't get beaten up by a guy with a green mohawk and tattoo sleeves. "

Colin swallowed, "I like the sound of that."

Rory smirked, "I'm going to need a few minutes alone in each of your rooms."

"Why?" Logan asked suspiciously.

"Logan," Rory widened her eyes in her best approximation of a guileless expression, "you make all this noise about trust. You've got to give a little to get some. So trust me."

"Why do I not like the sound of _that_?" Colin asked.

"Because you're a control freak," Finn supplied.

"I won't think less of you, should I come across a stash of dirty magazines," Rory promised.

Logan held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. When would be a convenient time for you to rifle through our closets?"

"How 'bout now?"

"Now?"

"Why not? You and Colin can take a walk. Get some ice cream."

"Ice cream," Logan repeated dubiously. "We just ingested an alarming amount of food."

"You're growing boys."

"'Logan and I?' What about Finn?" Colin wondered.

"Finn can stay."

"Yeah, Colin. I can stay. Wait, why can I stay?"

"Because I trust you to dress yourself in a way that is appropriate for my event," Rory answered. "Plus, I might need your input."

Finn gave Logan and Colin a triumphant look that clearly said 'neener neener neener.'

"Wait," Logan started, "let's recap. You want Colin and I to leave and get ice cream so you to can pick out our clothes for us."

"Pretty much, yeah. You seem to be stuck on the ice cram thing, though. Do you people not eat ice cream? I'm sure you can find some Gelato, or," and she shuddered a little as she steered them to the door, "Fro-Yo. Whichever you prefer."

"Has it escaped you're notice that we're grown men?"

"Nope," Rory chirped and opened the door.

Logan sighed, "How long would you like, Ace?"

"Forty five minutes should be good. See-ya!"

"Toodles," Finn added with a smirk. Colin and Logan left and he turned to Rory, rubbing his hands together. "Well. That was fun."

Rory laughed, "I enjoyed myself."

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

"Let's."

* * *

"How is it that we just got kicked out of our own place by a girl we don't even know that well?" Colin asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Logan admitted, "she's mighty persuasive."

"And you like her."

"Well, yeah. Don't you?"

"You're so dense sometimes. I mean you like her in a not strictly platonic way. You like her in a goopy, hand holding, snuggly way."

"I do not. And did you just say 'snuggly?'"

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Colin. How long have we known each other?"

"I don't know. Ten years?"

"Exactly. Have I ever done the 'goopy, hand holding, snuggly' thing?"

"There's a first time for everything. Perhaps you're maturing."

"Me? Mature? Ha!"

"Logan, you can't just James Bond your way through life. Because in the real world James Bond would be an STD factory."

"I'm only 22."

"So?"

"So, I think I can have a few more years of James Bonding it before I break out heirloom ring and pop the question."

"I think Rory Gilmore showed up ahead of schedule, then."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's kind of perfect for you."

Logan glanced at Colin skeptically, "Have you been watching Oprah, again? That stuff will mess with your head."

"Shut up. Just think about it. Socialites bore you, but you're parents would never approve of someone outside of that set. At first I thought she was too, well, sweet for you, but she's got a temper and some attitude and a couple of skeletons in the closet."

"I think you're high."

"I think you know I'm right. When Logan did not reply Colin switched gears. "When are we going to ask her to join the LDB?"

That caught Logan's attention, "She wouldn't."

"Why not? She's got the necessary background. The Hayden's were members of the Princeton chapter for generations. Emily Gilmore was one of the first female group members at Yale."

"She doesn't know that. And it's not up to us to tell her."

Okay. Another subject that Logan was apparently not fond of. "What do you think she and Finn are doing?"

"I really don't want to know. To The Pub?"

"To The Pub."

* * *

They'd gone into Colin's room first. Rory had made a brief survey, but avoided anything too in depth. This was something of a violation of privacy and Rory didn't want to break too many boundaries. Finn, it seemed, had no such qualms and was currently nosing through a credit card statement. Rory made quick work of Colin's closet and dresser. He owned enough designer suits to pay for her house, and the one next door. "Finn, I let you stay so you could help. So help." She held up two shirts, "Which one?"

"Neither," He got up and rummaged around a little.

Rory, her job taken away, wandered over to the bookcase, what she saw there, was not what she had expected, "What's he majoring in?"

"Colin? Art History."

"Really? I pegged him as a future MBA type."

"Nope."

"What do his parents do?" Rory cringed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It shouldn't matter what his parents did.

Colin poked his head out and asked slyly, "Why Rory Gilmore, are we judging people by the amount of money their parents make?"

"No, you all just seem to know an awful lot about me; I'm just trying to get up to speed."

"All you had to do was ask. Colin's dad is a real estate developer. Hotels apartment buildings, stuff like that."

"Like The Donald?"

"Kind of. Mostly in Europe, though. And he lacks appalling hair. Anyway, Colin's the spare, so he gets to study whatever he wants. The older brother is on track to enter the family business."

"Huh. What about you?"

"I've been waiting for you to ask that. You and I are kindred, in some respects."

"Being?"

"We're children of scandal. My mother was as high society, blue blooded Republican as a person could be. Then she ran off with a musician."

"Ah. So you're love of musician types is genetic."

"Yeah. The family cut her off. Uncle Mathew was set to inherit everything."

"Then…" Rory prodded.

"Then he came out of the closet."

"So?"

"Republican's, remember?"

"Right."

"Anyway, as they had no more children, running off to Australia was the more forgivable sin, so my mum was brought back into the fold. They bought a tiny record label for my dad, which has since become mighty profitable."

"See, that's definitely a plot to a movie of the week."

"What do you think of this?" Finn held up some clothes.

"Nice. Very mod."

"To Logan's room we go."

* * *

"What are two handsome gentlemen like you doing dining without female company?"

"We've been asking ourselves the same question."

Stephanie helped herself to a seat, "Not that I'm not glad to see you or anything. Because there's a guy over there who was getting a bit to overzealous in his attentions."

"Where?" Colin craned his neck to look, and Logan shook his head. Colin had had a thing for Stephanie for a year and had never once acted on it.

"There," she pointed a finger, "the guy at the bar, in the green sweater. You let a guy buy you a drink and all of a sudden his hand starts inching up your thigh. No manners."

Logan chuckled at the damsel in distress act. Stephanie was anything but. He was struck by an idea, "What are you doing tomorrow, Stephanie?"

She placed a hand over her heart, "Logan Huntzberger, I'm flattered. But you're not my type."

"I know. And I'm grateful but that wasn't why I asked. Colin, Finn and I are going to see a band play."

She wrinkled her nose delicately, "But why?"

"Rory Gilmore invited us," Colin and Stephanie shared a knowing look that Logan did not like the slightest bit.

"And she said she had no interest in cutting."

"Cutting?" asked Logan.

"In line."

"What line?"

"The line to ride Logan Huntzberger." Colin choked on his soda at her bluntness and she patted him on the back, "I'm in."

"There are rules," Colin told her.

"I don't like rules, Stephanie pouted.

"Number one: we have to be nice. Number two we must protect the integrity of the event."

"Which means…?"

"Dress to blend."

Stephanie clapped and bounced in her seat, "Ooh dress up. That'll be fun."

* * *

If being in Colin's room was weird, being in Logan's was even more so. She hovered near the door while Finn dived right in. He turned and looked at her oddly, "Coming?"

"I feel weird."

He nodded in understanding, "Because you figured that the first time you were in Logan's room you'd be naked and he'd be doing unspeakable things to your body?"

"Finn!" it came out as a high pitched squeak.

"What? Honestly Rory, we're going to have to do something about that prudish streak you have."

"It's not," though the blush that stained her face said otherwise, "Logan and I aren't like that."

"Yet."

"Not ever."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"He's not my type."

"What is your type, then?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't know, how can Logan not be your type?"

Rory glared at him, "I think I like you better when you're drunk."

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

* * *

When Colin and Logan returned, Finn was attempting to teach Rory the fine art of playing video games. She was finding that she was not very good at it. "You realize you have no hand-eye coordination, whatsoever."

"I'm well aware of that. I took golf for my PE credit."

"Hey. We recruited another person for tomorrow, Gilmore."

Rory looked up and her onscreen character was promptly annihilated, "Who?"

"Stephanie," Logan told her.

Rory looked back to the screen. The disappointment she was feeling was surely due to the fact that she was failing miserably at the game. "Great. That's another ticket." She made a show of checking her watch and got up, "I should go. I was only supposed to be gone for a little while."

"Do you want me to walk you back," Logan asked.

"No. I'll be fine. I'll see you all tomorrow?"

"You will," Colin confirmed.

"It'll be excellent," Finn enthused.

"At 7:30," Rory reminded them.

"Until then, Ace."


	6. Through Cannons and Spillways

**RATING**: Upped to PG-13

**SPOILERS**: Up to and including "But Not As Cute as Pushkin"

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB.

**NOTES**: Eek. This chapter took forever to get out. Between Christmas and the new semester and falling in love with the 5 new C.D's my family provided me with, I've been a busy girl. This chapter's title comes from on of the aforementioned discs, Echoes by The Rapture.

**Six: Through Cannons and Spillways**

"Lane!"

"Rory!"

Lane climbed into the car and Rory reached over the center console to give Lane an awkward hug. Lane squeezed Rory's arm in return. Rory pulled back, "You cut your hair! It's pretty."

"Thank you. Zach, Brian and Gil have yet to notice."

"Really? You must have cut off a couple of inches."

"Four and a half, actually."

Rory shook her head, "Stupid boys. I mean Gil, I can understand. His hair hasn't seen the business end of a pair of scissors for a good long while, but Zack and Brian. They live with you. They see you several times a day," she began to pull out of the parking lot, "how can they not notice four and a half inches?".

"That's what I thought! They had no idea, though. Even after I shook my hair, like Lucy Liu in Charlie's Angels. Repeatedly. Brian actually asked me if I had a burr. As if I'd suddenly taken up trail riding or something. But speaking of boys…"

"Oh no. I'm not going to get the Spanish Inquisition from you too, am I?"

"Of course you are! After all our years of friendship I want, nay, I deserve, details. Plus, Miss Patty would never speak to me again if I came back with nothing."

"Must you encourage them?"

"I really must."

"Well, don't think I don't want details of my own, missy. From the girl currently living with her boyfriend. Who, might I add, has quite the reputation."

"Please. Everything you know about this 'reputation' you speak of went straight from my lips to your ears."

"Exactly. I had a valid source."

"You've outsmarted me with your Yale caliber logic."

"You gave up easy."

"Nope. I'm kind of just dying to tell you about stuff. Girl talk is in very short supply where I live."

"So now I get to live vicariously through you."

"That's not what I hear."

"Oh?" Rory glanced at Lane out of the corner of her eye, "What exactly do you hear?"

"That you're being wooed by the who's who of heirs to future Forbes 500 companies. Weekend jaunts to New York and Miami, extravagant gifts, etc."

"Well, those future Forbes 500-ers fed me some excellent Chinese food last night."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"Why must gossip always be better than reality?"

"Because gossip is the product of overactive, oversexed imaginations and reality is just there."

"And boring."

"Most of the time."

* * *

"Aw," Rory and Lane had eaten dinner at a quirky Mexican place near Yale, and Lane was telling her Zack stories.

"I know!"

"It's like a fairy tale."

Lane looked at Rory skeptically, "If fairy tales were written by crack monkeys."

"No, I'm serious. 'The knight with the shining Fender saves Princess Drums-a-Lot from Brian, the evil bed stealer with the toxic drool,'" said Rory, using her very best announcer voice.

"Oookay. Speaking of crack monkeys. Rory, how much coffee have you had today?"

"Lots," Rory rubbed her temple, "I stayed out later than I should have last night and was up studying 'till three."

"Ah. And now we get to your story. Enter: the limo boys. What were you doing?"

"Eating Chinese food, I told you."

"Uh-uh. Full disclosure."

"And talking."

"You're a wild party girl, Rory Gilmore. How're Paris and Nicky, by the way?"

Rory laughed, "Skanky and divorced. Seriously, though. It was weird."

"How so?"

"Well, the topic of sex came up."

"And?"

"And I've never really talked about sex with someone who hadn't either seen me sans clothing or had their tongue in my mouth."

"Rory, you're an adult now. Adults talk about sex all the time."

"I know. I'm just not used to this whole being an adult thing."

"Me neither," Lane confessed, "Sometimes it kind of sucks."

"Have you and Zack discussed sex?"

"Not really. He's had lots of it. I haven't had any. I don't really know how to begin that conversation."

"How about, 'So Zack, been tested for STD's lately?'"

Lane chucked a napkin at Rory, "I'm going to have to work my way up to that one."

"So tonight. Are you excited?"

"I'm ridiculously excited."

Rory smiled, "I'm happy for you. That you get to do something you love."

"I'm also kind of excited to meet the Yalie's. Give me the rundown."

"Well, there's Paris, who you've met. Marty who I've told you about."

"Naked guy."

"Don't call him that."

"I'm so calling him that. As the first guy that the pristine Miss Rory Gilmore ever saw naked he deserves the title."

"And then there's Logan, Colin and Finn. Oh, and Stephanie," she added.

Lane thought for a second, "Who's Stephanie?"

"One of their friends."

"What's she like?"

Rory considered the question, "She's been drunk about 75 percent of the time we've been in the same vicinity. But drunk, she's quite pleasant."

"And the guys?"

"Hmm. Honestly, I don't know that much about them."

"Well, you know more than I do, so do some spilling."

"Well, you'll like Finn because he's the second biggest audiophile I know, plus, his dad is a music industry guy. And not to sound like my grandfather, but hello, that could be a good connection for you. He's Australian, frequently drunk and a massive flirt. Then there's Colin, who I've yet to spend any one on one time with. He's a little more subdued then Finn, but mixes an excellent drink. And Logan is…" she trailed off.

"Logan's the one who calls you, 'Ace,' correct?"

"Yep."

"Nicknames are a little intimate, aren't they?"

"They are. We aren't."

"Okay."

"We aren't."

"I didn't contradict you," Lane pointed out reasonably.

"I know. You'll see when you meet him. He's… Logan.

"Gotcha," Lane said, "He is Logan. Logan is him."

"It's just…ugh. I can't explain it." Rory began shredding a napkin, her eyes distant. "He's disconcertingly sure of himself. He's kind but he's not nice. He's smart but he's not into school. He's one of the more challenging people I've met. I just don't know. I guess he's just fun."

Lane observed Rory closely, her desire to meet this Logan character growing. He'd ruffled Rory, that was for sure. "Fun is good. You deserve fun, Ror."

Rory brightened a little, "I do, don't I? Thanks Lane."

"For what?"

"For listening. For not trying to tell me how I feel."

"You'll figure it out. You always do."

"Sooner or later."

"Usually later," Lane teased.

Rory laughed, unable to argue. "Anyway, they can all be completely insufferable, spoiled little rich boys, but I've extracted promises of good behavior."

"Hmm. I am expecting an interesting night."

"I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Are you ready to go?"

"I'll waddle for awhile, but yeah."

"Good. We have to make one more stop before we go to the dorm."

"For?"

Rory smirked, "You'll see."

* * *

"Lane, Paris, you remember each other, don't you?"

"Lane. How are things?"

"Good. And you?"

"Fine, thank you. Terrence says I'm not progressing as fast as I should, but I think that's just so I'll avail myself of his services, for which he charges exorbitant fees, for awhile longer."

"That's… nice. Who's Terrence?"

"Her life coach," Rory answered for Paris with a look that warned Lane from asking follow up questions. "Paris, I want to leave in an hour, is that enough time for you?"

"I suppose. Why am I going to this thing again?"

"Because you've realized that you should make the most of these years, the best years of your life?"

"Kill me now if the best years of my life are spent sharing a dorm room with you, Rory. Try again."

"Because I pleaded and coerced?"

"I remember now. An hour, you say?"

"Fifty-seven minutes now."

"I can manage," Paris headed into her bedroom.

"Dress your age, Paris!" Rory called after her.

"I'll skank it up to the best of my meager abilities."

"That's all I ask of you."

"You know," Lane began thoughtfully, "it's somehow comforting that in this topsy turvy world Paris remains Paris-like."

"I think so too."

* * *

Fifty three minutes later, Marty knocked on the door. Lane answered, as Rory was trying to talk Paris into a white studded belt, and introduced herself. "Hi. I'm Lane Kim, Rory's friend from Stars Hollow."

Marty shook her outstretched hand, "I'm Marty. Rory's friend from upstairs."

"Nice to finally put a face to the image."

"Image?"

"The image of Rory handing you her robe."

Marty, having been thoroughly teased about said incident merely raised an eyebrow, "Is that your not so subtle way of telling me you've thought about me naked?"

"I guess I have, yeah."

"Marty, hey. Tell Paris that a belt won't make her seem easy."

"Paris, a belt won't make you seem easy. If anything, belts make it harder to get into a girl's pants."

"Ew."

Marty grimaced, "Yeah. Sorry. I kind of grossed myself out there. Rory, you look nice."

"Thank you, Marty," Rory smiled at Marty.

Paris rolled her eyes, "Ladies and gentlemen, inept flirting. Hold your applause."

Marty and Rory broke eye contact. "Are you ladies almost ready?" Marty asked, shifting topics.

"I think so. I just have to grab something," Rory darted off into her room and came out brandishing a small plastic bag, which she tossed to Paris. "Earplugs. As promised. They're pink."

"Why?"

Rory shrugged, "They were the cutest ones available."

"Whatever. Let's get this over with."

"Aw. Paris. I'm heartened by your enthusiasm for the thing which I hope to spend my life doing," Lane remarked dryly.

"Enthusiasm gives me a headache. And I'm trying to postpone the inevitable."

Rory clapped her hands together cutting Lane's reply off, "Alright. Let's go. We can't have the keeper of the beat late to her own gig and we have one last stop to make."

"Joy," Paris deadpanned.

"I'm with Paris on this one," Marty added.

"Well I'm not," Lane said, "bring on the limo boys."

* * *

The limo boys were, however, not quite ready to be brought on. When Lane and Rory knocked on the door to their suite (Marty and Paris having opted to wait by the cars) they weren't greeted by anyone who lived in said suite, but by Stephanie. "Rory," she greeted, somewhat warmly. Rory didn't answer back immediately as she was surprised by the other girl's complete sobriety and even more so by her choice of ensemble. Stephanie had paired jeans with an old Clash concert t-shirt. The shirt in and of itself would not have been remarkable. But Stephanie had taken a pair of scissors to it, removed most of the back, and with the artful use of ribbon and what looked like shoelaces had managed to turn it into something of a corset. Rory would never have had the guts to wear it and envied the other girls self-assurance. Stephanie had even gone so far as to dye streaks of her hair blue and looked completely beautiful.

"I take it you were informed of the wardrobe requirements," Rory stated, somewhat unnecessarily.

"I was. I made a few sweeps past the smokers behind the art building for inspiration."

"You'll fit right in. Oh, sorry. Lane, this is Stephanie, Stephanie meet Lane." Stephanie nodded and Lane waved a little.

Introductions complete Stephanie stepped aside, and ushered Rory and Lane into the common room, "The boys are having a bit of performance anxiety."

"I heard that!" the voice rang out from the room which Rory knew to be Colin's only seconds before a crash was audible from Finn's.

Rory checked her watch, "We're already running late."

"I know. What kind of world do we live in when the men are keeping the ladies waiting?"

"One where men and women live in harmony, free of stereotypes?" Logan answered blithely, emerging from his room.

"I was thinking one where men are far too dependant on grooming products, actually. No girl wants a guy who's prettier than she is."

Logan, however wasn't listening. His eyes had locked on Rory and he was slightly discombobulated. He'd always known she was beautiful but that beauty had always registered as cool and reserved. Untouchable. Not tonight. The top she was wearing was black and sleeveless and could definitely be described as slinky. The fabric draped in such a way that was not overly provocative but revealed varying amounts of skin depending on how she moved. Logan was assaulted by an image of himself, kissing her collarbone, her skin warm and responsive, sliding the top off her shoulder. Tonight, his fingers itched to touch.

Rory, for her part, was not unaffected by Logan's appearance. He had dutifully dressed in what she and Finn (mostly Finn) had picked out. The sight of Logan Huntzberger, prep extraordinaire, in well worn jeans, a silk screened Sid and Nancy tee and leather jacket spoke to the part of her that had liked Dean's motorcycle. The part of her that had fallen for Jess. Rory met his eyes and she forgot to be embarrassed by the frank appraisal she had just made, as she read in the heat of his gaze things she was just beginning to understand.

Stephanie, with all of her experience with the opposite sex watched with barely leashed glee. She was glad that she'd agreed to come. Lane, though lacking in practical experience, had seen enough Discovery channel documentaries to accurately recognize a mating ritual when she saw one. She cleared her throat, effectively cutting the sexual tension. "One down, could we get the other two? I'll never hear the end of it if I'm late."

Logan tore his eyes away from Rory and registered, finally, the presence of a person he had never met before. "Hello. You must be Lane. Nice to meet you. Any friend of Ace's is a friend of mine."

"Likewise. I've heard a lot about you, Logan."

Logan glanced Rory's way, "All lies, I'm sure. I'm actually a lovely person."

Rory raised an eyebrow, "What makes you think I'd tell her otherwise?"

"Gut instinct. Did she tell you I was arrogant and over privileged?"

"Nope," Lane answered cheerfully, "she said you were an insufferable, spoiled little rich boy."

Logan mock pouted, "Not nice, Ace."

"I thought I showed restraint actually. I could have added many more unflattering adjectives, I assure you."

"You two can verbally copulate some more later," Stephanie interrupted, to Rory's embarrassment, and the amusement of everyone else present. "I've got me some boys to wrangle."

Without further preamble she walked across the room and threw open the door to Finn's bedroom. Finn immediately jumped up from his seat on the floor where he was seemingly debating between numerous pairs of sunglasses. "Steph! What if I'd been naked?"

"Then you could add two more names to the long list of people who've seen you au natural?"

"Finn's quite fond of being au natural," Logan stage whispered to Rory and Lane.

Finn heard and strolled into the living room, "Why deprive people?" His eyes alighted on Lane and he inclined his head towards her regally. Or as regally as he was capable of. "Finnegan Lewiston, at your service. I'd be happy to give you a private demonstration."

Lane, unused to being flirted with outrageously by undeniable handsome Aussie boys, found herself blushing. Rory saved her from having to reply. "I know I should have made the connection before, but 'Finnegan?' Ha."

Finn turned his attention to Rory, "Are you casting aspersions on my name?"

"Not at all. Finnegan."

Stephanie, once again, interrupted. All this witty banter was giving her a headache and, more importantly, cutting into the time where she could be conning some handsome young thing into buying her a drink. "Could we have less talking and more figuring out what the hell is taking Colin so long?"

"Colin's ready," the aforementioned third limo boy entered the room looking slightly disgruntled, and wearing pink Chucks, of all things. "Finn stole all my shoes." He was wearing a sweater vest and tie and looked as though he'd just stepped out of a Hives video.

"Did not," Finn protested, but the smirk he was wearing told otherwise.

"You look great, Colin," Rory told him, "just one thing." And she stepped towards him and proceeded to mess up his hair.

"Gilmore, stop, ow!" His attempts to bat her hands away were unsuccessful.

"There," Rory stepped back and considered him, "maybe some eyeliner."

"I draw the line at makeup, Gilmore."

"What about that time that…" Finn began.

"Line. Drawn," Colin bit out. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, we should. Paris is going to kill me."

On the way downstairs and out of the building Finn and Lane fell into an easy conversation, debating Karen O and the female lead singer, male band issue, and Logan, Colin and Stephanie trailed behind arguing in hushed tones. Rory spared little attention to either conversation, thinking instead of how to divide eight people with vastly different personalities, among two cars.

Paris was, predictably, less than pleased when they approached. "Did you get lost? Ravaged by wild hippo's, perhaps?"

"Nope," and rather than elaborating and wasting more time Rory took charge and began divvying up the group that was clustered around her. "Lane, could you ride with Paris, to make sure she gets to the club alright? And Marty, you're with me." They both nodded their assent and separated from the group. Dividing up 'her' group had been the simple part. How to divide the LBDers was less so. In the end she decided to put Finn and Colin with Paris. Lane and Finn had proven an ability to get along. Logan and Stephanie would ride with her so that Marty would only be subjected to one of the 'unholy triumvirate,' as he had coined them, at a time. Stephanie and Colin were wild cards in her little scheme.

"Shotgun," said Logan immediately, as the four of them gathered by Rory's car. Much to Marty's obvious displeasure.

"Fine," Rory answered, waving as Paris's car peeled out of the parking lot. "Oh, I almost forgot," she smirked impishly and leaned into the car, retrieving something from the dash, which she handed to Logan.

He surveyed the bundle of slightly wilted carnations and bag of skittles. "You sure know how to make a date feel special, Ace."

Tellingly, Rory didn't argue with his classification of himself as her 'date.' "Hey, I sprung for the big bag of skittles! And, they're the tropical ones."

"Well, in that case…"

All four climbed into the car as Rory and Logan continued to bicker. Stephanie's sigh was long suffering. "Petruchio? Katerina? Could you cease and desist? At least as long as we are in an enclosed space." She turned to Marty conspiratorially, "Honestly, shouldn't they just get a room already?" Logan coughed loudly. It was his signature 'Shut it, Steph," cough that he'd used on her for a very long time. Pretty much since she'd been learned how to talk, actually. One look at Marty's stony expression and the reason for its use became obvious. She decided that she liked Rory Gilmore. Any girl that could wrap multiple attractive young men around her finger was a girl she'd enjoy hanging out with. "Logan, can I have some skittles?"

He handed the bag back to her and, magnanimously, she offered some to Marty (which he declined) before taking a handful. "Thanks. I'm so glad your sharing abilities have improved."

"Sounds like there's a story, there," Rory observed.

"Oh, there's a great many stories there. Got a tape recorder handy, there, Reporter Girl?" Logan coughed again but Steph ignored him this time. A 'Shut it, Steph' cough didn't count if it was used for the purposes of self-preservation.

"Sadly, no. But I have an excellent memory."

"Well, there was this one time, I think we were about six, my mother was having tea with Lorraine, that's Logan's mom, and she brought me along. Logan wasn't around but they sent me into the playroom. So there I was playing with these robot things…"

"Transformers," Logan muttered darkly.

"…and Logan comes in, sees me, and starts to throw a fit."

"You were having a Transformer wedding! My favorite one was wearing a Kleenex veil!"

"And he threw my shoes out the window, into the pool, in retaliation."

"You deserved it. And I didn't get dessert for a week because of that."

"So…" Rory interrupted them, "you two go way back then?"

"Yep," Stephanie replied, "our mothers were sorority sisters, and our fathers went to the same Prep school. We started having regular play dates shortly after birth. Secretly, they're planning our nuptials."

"Though they'll inevitably be disappointed," Logan found himself adding, glancing over at Rory. Did she appear relieved or was that just wishful thinking on his part? His cell phone rang, interrupting his opportunity to study her further. He checked the call display. It was Colin, "Hello?"

"Gilmore's roommate is a lunatic," came the muffled stage whisper.

"I've had the pleasure of meeting her, and I must agree. Where are you?"

"Inside the club. Oh, Lane said to remind Rory to come around back. And hurry. Finn's absolutely useless..."

"Who're you talking too?" Logan recognized Paris's voice in the background easily.

"Gotta go. Bye." Logan hung up and laughed to himself.

Rory glanced at him quizzically, "What was that about?"

"That was Colin. Gellar's being a holy terror."

"Paris is especially gifted in that arena," Marty said.

"Yeah," Stephanie agreed, "we had a chemistry class together last year. The lab monitors cowered in fear."

Rory shrugged, "That's Paris. But who knows. Maybe Colin enjoys that in a woman? Oh. This is it."

"Here we go," Stephanie drawled. She should have brought popcorn.

Next Up: A chapter titled So Let's Party, Dustin Hoffman. Mucho one on one action between a myriad of characters, including Rory and Logan (finally!).


	7. So Let's Party, Dustin Hoffman

**RATING**: PG-13 but edging upwards.

**SPOILERS**: Up to and including "But Not As Cute as Pushkin"

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB.

**NOTES**: Yay. I'm glad people are liking this. Chapter title ganked from "Hollywood Kids" by The Thrills. Thanks to Psychotic Scribbler for the beta and the feedback. Next chapter might be delayed a little. I've been working on a Finn/Rory fic off and on and it's been nagging for attention lately.

**Seven: So Let's Party, Dustin Hoffman**

Rory gave her name to a very large, mildly scary and tattooed man who was stationed at the back door. He nodded curtly, mumbled, "Rory Gilmore, plus three," and then proceeded to actually count them, before allowing them entrance.

The dressing room the band had been provided with could kindly be described as 'modest.' There was a small table in the corner spread with some food (sandwiches, probably brought along by Gil, to which Finn was currently helping himself) and bottled water. It had dozens of messages scratched into it. The single couch was threadbare and stained in several places, with substances that none of them cared to examine further. There was no other furniture and still the room was cramped; the band was meeting in one corner, finalizing a set list, apparently. Paris and Colin were standing in the corner opposite, seemingly ignoring each other. Lane waved at Rory as they entered, and then gestured that they'd be a minute. Rory, along with Stephanie and Logan, made their way over to Colin and Paris.

"I came, I saw, I'll be bathing for days. Can I go now, Rory?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Paris, it's not that bad."

"You only say that because you've yet to see the bathrooms."

"Remember what Terrence said…"

Paris looked ready to stomp her foot, "Fine. Two hours. Then I'm leaving."

"Very gracious of you. I hope the drive here was uneventful?"

"Mostly," Colin answered, "Those two," he gestured to Lane and Finn, "yammered on like my maiden great aunts at a garden party. Paris and I attempted to discuss, what was it again?"

"Nietzsche, Nicole Kidman, and _The__ Origin of the Species_."

"And?" Logan asked.

"Disagreed on all counts."

Rory nodded, understanding Colin's frantic call for backup. Paris didn't take too kindly to being disagreed with. "Well, you're alive."

"That's something," Colin agreed.

Later, Rory decided that Paris was right about the bathrooms. Lane had dragged her into one so she could pack on the stage makeup. She covered a section of the counter with paper towels and sat down on it. "So what do you think of Finn?"

"I think someone dropped him on his head as a baby."

"Several times."

"Zach hated him instantly."

"You sound pleased."

"I am. It's nice to know I can make him jealous. Is that twisted?"

"A little," Rory admitted.

Lane sighed, "Zach's just so… wanted. I mean, he flips his hair and half the girls in the audience swoon. And some of those girls… I feel like I don't compete."

Rory hopped down from the counter and took Lane by the shoulders, "First of all, no maligning your own hotness. You rock a pair of fishnets better than anyone I know. Second of all, I've known you forever and trust me, the probability of one of those girls being as cool as you? Practically none."

"Thanks for the pep talk, coach."

"Just doing my job," she sat back down and handed Lane the eyeliner, "Out of curiosity, should Zach be jealous?"

"No. Finn's on the mental friend list, definitely. He'd drive me insane, otherwise."

"I think it would take a special person to date Finn."

"And Logan?"

"What about Logan?"

"What kind of person would date Logan?"

"Not the me kind of person, if that's what you're getting at."

"You always were the brightest crayon in the box."

"Lane."

"Rory."

"Logan is a friend type person. That's all."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Rory pouted, "I don't know what to do."

"Kiss the boy."

"What? No."

"You've kissed boys before. See: Mariano, Jess. Sookie's wedding," Lane paused, "probably a bad example."

"Probably."

"But you're older now. You're unattached now."

"True."

"Take a chance, Rory. If there's anything I've learned in my meager experience with the opposite sex it's that. I'm almost positive you won't regret it."

"You think?"

"I think. Ooh! The band's starting. Zach knows a guy who knows the bassist. Apparently they're good."

"All right, let's go. I'll angst later."

Generally, Logan was supremely confident in his dancing ability. He could waltz and foxtrot as well as anyone. He'd moved his hips to the beat at many a trendy nightclub, in unison with many a beautiful, sultry, woman. Here, though, he was lost and pretty certain he could not dance like the crowd was dancing. Jumping, flailing and head bobbing were just not in his repertoire.

As soon as the first band had started Lane and Rory had emerged from the bathroom had made their way towards the front of the dance floor. Paris had wandered off on her own and had scrounged up a newspaper. She was now seated at a table near the back, her withering glare scaring off most who dared approach.

Finn had dragged Stephanie out to join Rory and Lane. Stephanie, also out of her element, had stood still in the middle of the crush, observing for a moment. Soon she began moving, tentatively, but before long she almost looked at home. But as a woman, and a gorgeous one at that, no one would notice bad dancing. Logan didn't have those advantages.

Colin, Logan and Marty had stood awkwardly together for the duration of about two songs before Rory had made her way over to them and tried to cajole them into joining in. Logan and Colin had firmly refused and Marty had allowed himself to be pulled away, probably realizing that dancing, and possibly looking like an idiot, were preferable to awkward silence with people he was not especially fond of. Logan was not so willing to take that risk, so unaccustomed was he to being uneasy in social situations.

The dance floor of the club was slightly lower than the rest of it, two steps leading down from the railing Logan was leaning against, affording him an excellent view of what was going on below. Rory was his primary focus, a fact he was unwilling to dwell on. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. Every once in awhile, someone, usually Marty but occasionally Finn or Lane or Stephanie, would crowd close to her and say something. She would laugh, or smile and say something back. She looked happier and more carefree than he'd ever seen her before. So fixated on Rory, he barely registered Marty moving away, making the universal signal that he needed water. Nor did he notice Stephanie following.

Marty had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get the bartender's attention, for a couple of minutes when Stephanie sidled up beside him. Typically, the second the man behind the bar saw her, he was asking to take their orders. Marty ordered water; Stephanie had a tequila sunrise. Marty paid for them both.

"To show my gratitude, I'm going to give you some advice," Stephanie announced.

"Really? I met you, what, three hours ago? What are you going to advise me on?"

"Rory Gilmore."

Marty closed up visibly, "Now I definitely don't think you're qualified."

"I'm a girl and majoring in chemistry."

"So?"

"As a chemistry major, I'm qualified to tell you that you two have none. As a girl, I'm qualified to tell you that Rory thinks of you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less and that there is absolutely any way for you to change that."

"Straight to the point."

"Additionally, I've known your competition since he wore diapers. He doesn't lose."

"I'd say thank you, but I wouldn't mean it?"

"Just trying to help. Now how about I buy you something a little stronger than water? You're far too cute to pout."

Their was a lull between the first band and Hep Alien that made talking at an almost normal level in the corner furthest from the speakers piping in a Libertine's song was possible. "Cheers, gentlemen," Finn appeared, waitress with a tray of drinks in tow, from somewhere behind Logan "this round's on me." Stephanie appeared next to him and leaned up to whisper something in Finn's ear. He grinned, pleased. Stephanie downed the drink she was holding in one go and grabbed another from the waitress's tray, "I got you two for Logan," Finn continued, "figured he'd need 'em, mate."

"Why's that?" Logan asked, suspicious.

"Dutch courage, all that," Finn replied breezily.

"Still not following, Finn. Did you toss back a couple of pre-game drinks without sharing?"

"That's beside the point," Finn deflected, and there was definitely a slight slur there.

"Which is," Stephanie cut in, "that you've been giving Rory the sex eyes since she walked into your room tonight."

"Have not," Logan protested. It sounded weak even to him.

"Tip: if you're going to lie to us, lie better."

"I hate in when you get like this."

"You hate it when I'm right and you're wrong? Newsflash, friend, that's pretty much all the time."

"I meant I hate it when you start channeling your mother."

"Ooh. Low blow," Colin commented.

Stephanie waved it off easily, "He's trying to distract me. Classic Huntzberger. Gentlemen," she held her glass aloft, "I propose a bet."

"Oh?" Colin questioned, interested.

"Two hundred bucks says Logan doesn't have the balls to make a move tonight."

"I'm standing right here, you know."

"Really? Hadn't noticed. You lack your usual presence when you're being such a sad sack."

"I'll take that bet," Colin said, before Logan could make a comeback, probably not a very nice one.

"Me too," Finn interjected, "though my money's on Miss Rory doing the making of the moves."

Logan took his drinks, "I really loathe you people right now."

Finn slung an arm around Logan playfully, "That's just the sexual frustration talking. Drink up."

Meanwhile, Rory was across the bar trying to distract Lane from her pre-performance jitters and failing miserably. Marty approached. "Hey! Will you please tell Lane she doesn't suck?"

"I've heard your rehearsal tape. You most definitely don't suck."

"Thanks. Oh! I have to check on the extra drumsticks!"

"Okay. But Lane?"

"Yeah?"

"Calm down. And breathe."

"I'll try," she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Sorry, Marty. You know rock stars, so high maintenance."

"That's okay. I just came to tell you that I'm going to head out with Paris in about a half hour. She set the stopwatch on her phone for your two hour deadline. And it's ticking down as we speak."

"Oh," Rory was confused, "Are you feeling okay."

"I feel fine."

"Paper due tomorrow?"

"Nope."

"Are you not having fun?" she tried.

"It's not that. This place is great. It's just…" he paused and seemed to struggle before coming to a decision and speaking in a rush, "I like you Rory."

"Oh. Marty, I…" Rory looked down at her feet, unsure of what to say.

"I liked you when I asked if you had a boyfriend. I liked you when I met your grandparents at the game last year."

"Marty…"

"But you don't like me."

"No! I do. Just not…"

"As more than a friend," he finished, his tone resigned.

"No. I'm sorry."

Marty shrugged, "You can't help these things, I know."

"So, now what happens?"

"I don't know. I've never done this before, either."

"I don't want you to not be my friend."

"I don't want to not be your friend either."

"So, we'll be okay?"

"Eventually. Just promise me you'll be careful with Logan," he stopped her where she would have protested, "I get it. You can't help it, right? He must have some redeeming quality for you to like him the way you do. Some tiny, tiny bearable personality trait. Hopefully."

"Marty."

"I might be a little bitter."

"I forgive you."

Marty bent down slightly and enveloped her in a hug, mildly relieved that there would be no more agonizing over what little things, such as this hug, meant. "Have a good night, Rory."

"Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow?" she asked as he stepped away.

"Sure. Usual table."

"I'm there. Goodnight," She waved as Marty glanced backward once and disappeared into the crowd.

"We're meddling," Finn declared, watching Logan watch Rory who was watching the band.

"No. No meddling. You're a terrible meddler," Colin shot the idea down instantly.

"You wish you could meddle as well as I meddle."

"Finn, just let them be."

"But they're taking forever. And ever and ever."

Colin sighed, though he hated to admit it, Finn was right, "What did you have in mind?"

"Ha! So you admit I'm a good meddler?"

"No. I admit you're impossible to stop from meddling. I might as well be privy to the plan so I can secure an escape route. Or a fire extinguisher. Passports and money, if need be."

"Steph's the pyro, not me. And I'm pretty sure there'll be no need to leave the country. This time."

"You were explaining the plan…"

"Oh, right-o. First step's done already."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Steph dispatched the bartender."

"Huh. Been wondering where he went."

"He and the little angry one left awhile ago."

"Step two: get them near each other. Step three: wait to see who wins the bet."

"That's barely meddling at all."

"Then what were you so worried about?"

"I figured you and Steph had cooked up a plan to stuff them into the trunk of Rory's car and drive them off a bridge, or something."

"They can't get to know one another in the biblical sense if they're dead, Colin."

"I know that. I just wasn't sure if you knew that."

"Thank you, New Haven!" the sweaty blond guy yelled, wrapping up the set.

"Initiating step two, in 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1. Cover me, I'm going in." Finn was most definitely passing tipsy and approaching sloshed.

"Whatever."

Lane's jitters were completely pointless because Hep Alien played an awesome show. Rory had danced and screamed and made punk rock hand symbols until she was pretty sure Lane was embarrassed to have her in the crowd. But then, wasn't that what friends were for?

Afterwards, Lane was tired and sweaty and happy. The guy who booked them had approached Brian about booking them again, so she forgot to reprimand Rory about acting cool. "Who's a rock star?" Rory teased, bumping her hip into Lane's.

"I am."

"I can't hear you, Josie."

"Well I'm not saying it any louder, Val."

"Nice set."

"Thanks. For coming, too. And bringing your friends."

"They didn't scare you off rich people forever?"

"Nope. I like being included in your new life."

"You're always welcome."

"I'll hold you to that."

Finn loped up to them, interrupting their sappy moment. "Lane-y, darling! Will you bear my children?"

Lane pretended to give the question serious consideration, "No."

"I'm crushed. Do you have a C.D?"

"Yep, hold on," Lane dropped to the floor and dug through a bag, coming up with a jewel case, "here. On the house."

"Merci. Don't be a stranger, now," he kissed her, a loud smacking, obviously platonic kiss (though Zach glowered visibly). "Rory, Steph Colin and I are pestering the bartender. We lost track of Logan. Could you hunt him down? None of us are up to walking in straight lines at the moment."

"Sure."

"You're a doll," Funnily enough, when he walked away, he seemed to have no trouble.

Rory turned to Lane, "Seems as though I've been given a mission."

"I should help pack up. We still have to drive back to Stars Hollow."

Rory winced, "Be careful."

Lane rolled her eyes, "Yes, mom."

"Quiet, you. I'll be home on Sunday. Mommy-daughter day. Are you working?"

"Sure am."

"Well than I'll see you then. No mommy-daughter day is complete without Luke's."

Logan was easy enough to find. She spotted him coming out of the bathroom almost immediately. She made her way over to him, "Howdy, stranger."

"Ace, is that you? I'd forgotten what you looked like."

"In the flesh. Sorry for leaving you to fend for yourself. It seems I inherited none of my grandmother's flair for entertaining."

He waved off her apology, "Don't worry about it. You looked like you were having fun."

"I did. It's nice to just forget about deadlines and studying for a night."

"That's what I keep telling you."

"Do you always have to be right?"

"Yes."

Rory laughed, at least he admitted it. "Thanks for coming, Logan."

"Thanks for inviting me. Us. I had a pretty good time."

"You sound surprised."

"Probably because I am surprised. I might even dip into Finn's music collection."

"I'm so proud."

"So then why'd you agree to come, if you thought it would be torturous?"

"In Omnia Paratus."

"Ready for anything?"

"People apply the 'fancy catchphrase' in different ways, you see."

"Ah," Rory feigned sage understanding, "and how do you apply it?"

"Someday, I want to be able to look back and realize that I missed nothing. I want to have experienced everything that's worth experiencing. So when opportunity knocks…"

"You invite 'em in for pie?"

"Basically, so that's why I'm thanking you. I had many a new experience tonight."

"Not all experiences are worth having, you know."

"I know. Believe me, I know. But I'm not about to miss the good ones by being afraid of the bad ones."

Rory was struck by his words, though he hadn't meant them as a dig. She did that. She bypassed the potentially amazing things to protect herself, especially when it came to loving people. In sixty or so years, what would she regret? "You're braver than I am, Logan Huntzberger."

He tilted his head to the side, watching her closely, "You sell yourself short."

"Somehow, I don't think so. I flee instead of fighting."

"The first sign to overcoming something…"

"Is admitting you have a problem. Thank you for the psychobabble."

"I'm only trying to help."

An idea popped into Rory's head. An impulsive, un-Rory like idea. And she eyed him speculatively, a fizz of excitement building in her. Could she do it?

Logan waited for her reply and grew puzzled when none was forthcoming. His eyes widened, then hastily shut as she stepped forward, moving faster than he'd ever seen her, and covered his lips with her own. She was still moving and he took two short steps backward, until his shoulders hit the solid, grounding surface of a wall. One of her hands was braced on his shoulder, the other coming to rest on his side, under his jacket, her fist twisting his shirt, urging him closer. His mind was blank save for a shocked, repeating, expletive. Well honed instincts drove his body's response. He'd experienced chemistry and lust before but never like this. His hands reached out, slipped down the cool material at her sides and clutched at her hips. She kissed him frenetically, demandingly, which he hadn't expected, though when her tongue darted along the seam of his lips, he was more than happy to part them and kiss her back ardently, using lips and tongue and teeth until she pushed herself away from him, gasping for air.

She didn't move far, though, surprising both him and herself. She brought a hand, shaking only slightly, up to his face and used her thumb to wipe away a swear of lip-gloss she'd left behind. Logan's eyes bore into hers as he opened his mouth, sucking her thumb slightly inward. "Mmm. Strawberry?" He watched her eyes darken and her pupils dilate with a smug satisfaction.

"Raspberry, I think," her voice was breathy and cracked and unlike what she'd come to expect from herself.

"Nice," he used his hands, still situated on her hips, and tugged her into him again. He allowed his lips to wander, leisurely, along her jaw, before kissing her, finally. He set the pace this time, slow, seductive, almost sweet. Rory's head spun. When his lips disengaged from hers, he whispered, "I think we should go."

"Okay. Where is everyone?"

"I don't care."

"Logan…"

"Marty left with Paris awhile ago.

"I know."

"Finn, Colin and Stephanie can find their own way home."

"We can't just ditch your friends."

"We can and we will," Logan's eyes scanned the emptying bar, finally finding Colin. Colin raised two fingers in a mocking salute. Logan waved back, "they'll take a cab." He laced his fingers with hers, "Ready?"

"Lead the way," Logan didn't have to be told twice. At a fast clip, they moved through the closest exit, hastily putting on outerwear on the way, and, with some difficulty, found the car. Logan led her to the driver's side and she unlocked the door. He backed her against it before she could open it, kissing her lips briefly, before moving to her neck, just below her ear.

Rory fought back a moan, dimly aware that people were watching, as her head lolled to one side "We have to slow down."

"Don't," his teeth scraped gently over her skin, "want to."

The problem, it seemed, was that neither did she. "Logan," her hands reached down to still his, which were starting to wander into her open jacket. He pulled back to look at her, sensing she was serious, "I'm not going to have sex with you tonight."

"I didn't think you were," Logan assured her.

"Good. Now get in the car."

Colin slid next to Stephanie at the bar, the bartender having just placed a fresh drink in front of her, her last of the night as they'd be heading home soon, and handed him a ten before she could. Stephanie glanced his way, "Thanks, Colin."

"Well, it's looking like you're going to lose that bet you made," he gestured to the other side of the bar where Logan and Rory were standing closer together than was strictly necessary.

"I know."

"You know?"

Steph shook her head, "Colin, think. How often have you seen me make bets?"

"Often?"

"Exactly, two hundred dollars is child's play. But you know Logan. If you tell him he can't do something, he'll do it just to spite you."

"So you're playing matchmaker?"

"Kind of. Oh, ew. I really am my mother."

"Stephanie, you have blue hair. And your shirt is being held together by shoelaces. And you'd never put a dog in a purse."

"Ha! Of course not. If I'm going to drop that kind of money on an accessory, no way anything is going to be shedding in it. Wait, look!"

She gestured over to Rory and Logan just in time for Colin to see Rory push

Logan against the wall and kiss him, "Damn it."

"Finn won."

"I hate it when Finn wins."

"You probably should have saved your money just now."

"Probably," he answered absently, eyes still on the couple across the room.

"I'll admit I'm slightly impressed with the Reporter girl," her eyes widened as the couple continued, "enviable lung capacity."

Colin realized they were being slightly pervy, "We should probably look away now." Just then, Logan pulled away and looked around. Colin caught his eye. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Looks like we'll need to find an alternate ride home."

"Let's make Finn pay for the taxi."

"I enjoy the way your mind works."

Next Chapter: The obligatory Rory freak out and Logan sends envoys of goodwill.


End file.
